


sweepstakes

by virgohotspot



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cheerleader!Clarke, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Jock!Bellamy, Loosely early 2000's movie based, Loss of Virginity, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One-Sided Relationship, Pining, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 64,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29229417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virgohotspot/pseuds/virgohotspot
Summary: At first, Bellamy doesn't want to aid Octavia's crazy plan to win Homecoming queen. Her lifelong feud with Clarke Griffin is between the two of them, and he refuses to get in the middle of it. But his sister has a way of persuading him to pretend to date Clarke, just until Homecoming, so they can humiliate her and ruin her chances of claiming the crown. His popularity, charm, smarts and overall good looks should make this an easy plan, but Bellamy fears his relationship with Clarke may become a little too real for the both of them.Or, Bellamy pretends to date Clarke in order to help his sister win Homecoming Queen. Too bad that he actually falls in love with her along the way.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 66
Kudos: 293





	1. Chapter 1

“I need you to fuck Clarke Griffin.”

Bellamy spits out his cereal, the milk and chunks of Cheerios splattering across the wooden table, seeping into its cracks and inevitably intending to fester a nasty smell that he would probably have to prevent. His baby sister sits across from him, hands folded carefully in front of her, expression emotionless as she stares at her brother, as if she simply asked him to pass the sugar. With his head ducked, all he can do is stare up at her with wide eyes, frozen in place as milk drips from his chin. Octavia stares at him without any intention to provide much needed context, before ever so kindly retrieving a napkin from beside her plate and handing it to him.

He barely wipes away the remnants from his chin before Octavia continues, “She’d probably give you an STD or something though, so you can just pull a _She’s All That_ without the falling in love with her part and that would work.”

“You belong in prison,” Bellamy scowls, balling up his napkin and throwing it into his now, empty bowl of cereal. “How the fuck do you even formulate a sentence like that in your head?”

The first time Bellamy heard the name Clarke Griffin, Octavia had come home from her first day of first grade sobbing. A second grader who went by that fateful name had ganged up on the petite six year old during recess, embarrassing his sister in front of a crowd of kids for her raggedy doll. Their mother had given Octavia that doll for Christmas the previous year, and for half a decade after that, the youngest Blake was never in a place that her cotton friend wasn’t – even after Clarke’s torment. Probably because the next day, before Bellamy got the chance to huddle his group of third graders together, Octavia had snipped Clarke’s ponytail off with a pair of safety scissors.

And from the day, Bellamy couldn’t go two days without hearing an update on Clarke Griffin and how absolutely intolerable she was. When the two were in girl scouts together, Octavia and Clarke were neck in neck for selling the most cookies. Clarke managed to beat Octavia by twenty six boxes. In retaliation, Octavia stole all of Clarke’s girl scout friends, telling them how she cheated, got her doctor mom to sell some at work. In middle school, Octavia watered down Clarke’s painting supplies in Art class, sabotaging her grade, so the blonde spread a rumor about his sister joining a cult, leading to Bellamy shouting at her in the courtyard in front of half the school.

It became progressively worse once they reached high school. Clarke spread photos of Octavia blacked out at some party around school, Octavia only applied for the cheerleading squad to overshadow Clarke, eventually stealing the captain position from her, Clarke ratted out Octavia for cheating on a Biology midterm, Octavia put Clarke’s number on a Phone-Sex chatroom. There was a lot more that occurred in between and after, but Bellamy couldn’t remember all of it for the life of him. He removed himself from their feud a while ago and chalked it up to senseless, teen girl drama, simply responding to Octavia’s complaints about Clarke Griffin with an eyeroll or scoff.

In all fairness, Bellamy can’t stand Clarke either. Despite the fact that she initiated and actively participated in a rivalry with his sister, there was list of flaws floating beneath the façade of a perfect, pretty princess. Her privilege exuded off of her, whether that was her wearing the most expensive, name brand clothes in middle school or by rolling up in her Range Rover in the Ark High parking lot daily. Her mother probably did sell those girl scout cookies at the hospital named after her great grandfather, while he wheeled around dozens of boxes of snickerdoodles along with his sister in a wagon, knocking door to door for hours, three days straight on the hottest days of the summer. She’s also in his AP History class this year, despite her being in the grade below him, and she always undermined his debate topics or – annoyingly – played devil’s advocate.

However, Bellamy could sleep at night knowing Clarke had a good day, similar to if she had a bad day. Octavia’s life mission was to make Clarke miserable, and while Bellamy was sure the princess had a similar objective, he had told his sister exactly how embarrassing it was to be so invested in another person she claimed to despise.

Octavia rolls her eyes, undoubtedly more irritated at Bellamy’s lack of interest in her request than the insult. “I have a plan to win Homecoming Queen.”

“And that involves me fucking Clarke Griffin?”

“You don’t _need_ to fuck her, but it would definitely put salt in the wound,” Octavia states with a shrug. Bellamy stares at her, confused and agitated that his cereal has been disrupted for this, and she huffs, like it’s his fault he doesn’t immediately understand what she’s implying. “Clarke’s gearing up to find a date for Homecoming. She’s going to be looking for the ideal candidate to make her queen.”

“The fact that I have no idea where you’re going with this is giving me anxiety.”

“Shut up and let me finish. She’s probably going to go for Finn Collins. He’s new, and a transfer and already wildly popular. But he’s also the easy option. If you were available, you’d be the best one to choose. You won the past three years in a row.”

“Because Roma nominated me–”

Octavia holds up her hand, “Don’t need the psycho hookup spiel.” Bellamy rolls his eyes as she lowers her hand, peering at him with the tilt of her head. “You make Clarke Griffin feel like you want to be her date and she’ll pounce on it.”

Bellamy shakes his head, a pitiful laugh escaping his lips. “Even if I wanted to breathe the same air as Clarke Griffin, she hates me just as much as I hate her. How would any of this even work in your favor, anyways? Didn’t you just say you wanted to be Homecoming Queen?”

“Atom and I are a shoe-in, but Clarke’s going to be close competition,” Octavia leans back on her chair, folding her hands in her lap. “However, if you campaign with her, get close to her, I’d have an inside man. You play along for a bit, publicly dump her right before voting starts, she’s humiliated. You have more influence than her, she’ll be finished and I’ll win.”

For a moment, all Bellamy can do is stare at his baby sister, so calmly sitting across from him. She’s clearly been working this plan in her mind for a while, ironing out the details and his role in order for an easy succession to the throne. It’s a little scary, he has to admit, but he’d be lying if he said this surprised him. Octavia is a lot of things, and her undying vengefulness is basically the reason she gets up in the morning. His sister not only comes first in his eyes, but in her own.

Bellamy knows better than to indulge in whatever scheme she’s cooked up. Especially this one, that seems unnecessarily excessive and heartless, even for her. Clarke’s an awful snob and all, but this is next level cruel, even for someone like him to do in the name of his sister. And plus, he’s removed himself from the Octavia and Clarke rivalry years ago, this would only thrust him back into the core of it – and he can’t think of anything more draining than the mere thought of that.

He pushes back his chair, noting how Octavia’s eyes follow him as he stands. “There has to be something wrong with you. I’ve got better things to do then pretend to date Clarke so you can win a stupid high school title.”

Barely halfway to the cabinet to gather the cleaning supplies, Octavia shouts after him, “Easy for you to say. You’ve already been Homecoming King _three times_!”

* * *

Mr. Pike has been rambling for a good ten minutes before the bell drowns him out, inciting an uproar from students who huddle their things together and shove them into their bags, eager to leave their last class of the day and start the weekend. Bellamy shifts in his chair, but stays put. It’s a bit of a dick move to pack up when the teacher is still talking, and yeah, Mr. Pike is a hardass and all, but Bellamy actually likes his class. His insights actually give Bellamy something to think about, and he always lets him have creative freedom on essays. This is his second time having Mr. Pike for his AP History class, and he respects him enough as an individual to give him the decency of staying in his seat.

The rest of the class seems to have other ideas, because majority of them are already chatting before the bell even finishes its ding. Bellamy glances briefly around the room, only a handful of students still sitting. He catches the back of Clarke’s head, notes how she stays perfectly still, a lot less antsy than he is. Her elbows are propped up on the desk, head tilted upwards and she’s nodding along, lets Mr. Pike know how attentive she is. Bellamy resists the urge to scoff. She shows off without even having to say a word.

Bellamy thinks back to what Octavia said to him that morning. His throat is still sore from basically ejecting the half-chewed Cheerios halfway across the table. Staring at the back of Clarke Griffin’s head, her blonde locks cascading down her back and porcelain skin showcased by the ray of sunlight that peaks through the window, her blue eyes sparkling in admiration. She’s hot, he’ll give her that. And she’s someone he would at least fuck, if she were anybody else.

He tilts his head to the side in contemplation, and as if she can sense it, Clarke whips her head around to stare at him. Bellamy graces her with a taunting smirk as Clarke’s face twists into a scowl. He flashes her a playful wink, and he swears her cheeks heat up. But it disappears as quick as it appears. She rolls her eyes, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she turns her attention back to the front of the class. Clarke pulls her hand behind her back, successfully flipping him off and keeping it there for him to relish in for a couple moments. All Bellamy can do is stifle a laugh.

“This research project is a good chunk of your grade, so please decide your partners carefully,” Mr. Pike manages to call out with a huff just as students begin filing out the doorway. Bellamy takes that as the cue to raise from his seat, shuffling his items into his book bag.

Clarke stands after him, but collects her things at a faster pace, evidently intent on slipping out of class as quick as respectfully as possible. Bellamy snickers to himself, swinging his book bag over his shoulder and swiftly whisking past her, “Worried you won’t get out before the clock strikes midnight, princess?”

What can he say? Bellamy can’t help himself. Clarke is such an easy target, and deserves it, too. It would be a crime for him to pass up on calling her out for it. Not to mention, it’s kind of cute how her cheeks flush when he makes a comment to her, her mind instantly working a mile a minute to come up with the perfect comeback. Most times, he just removes himself before she can think of one, because she will – and usually, it’s something half-decent, if not pretty good.

He’s out the door before some slick remark can slide past her lips, thrust into the hall of bustling students all hellbent on racing out of the school doors to start their weekend. The crowd of people blur together, but Bellamy’s always been able to spot Octavia from a mile away – could hear her from the country over.

A burst of blonde hair whisks past him, brushing against his shoulder in a way too harsh to be accidental. Clarke saunters past him, and Bellamy takes the time to admire how her skirt flounces as she walks. Her destination isn’t too far, immersing herself into her group of friend’s by the locker that all embrace her with a high pitched squeal and a hug. Bellamy winces, just as Roma pulls Clarke in for an unnecessary embrace, shooting him a knowing glance over her shoulder. He’s not even sure why she’s here, considering she graduated last year. He averts his gaze from Clarke, finally, if not only to avoid Roma.

Yet, he’s a little too late, because when Jasper sneaks up from behind and claps him on the back, he also adds, “Please stop fucking everyone in that friend group. Clarke’s the only pure one left.”

“Please,” Bellamy scoffs, turning his attention to Jasper, “She’s anything but pure.”

Jasper’s eyes go so wide, they don’t look like they should fit on his slim face, “You hit that?”

“No,” Bellamy’s face twists into disgust, smacking Jasper’s hand off of his shoulder. “Besides, I haven’t fucked her whole friend group.”

“Roma, Bree, Raven–”

“Shut up.”

Jasper throws his head back in a laugh, his floppy hair falling over his face. Bellamy would assume he’s already drunk, or maybe high, possibly both, but this is also just how Jasper is. He clutches onto Bellamy for support, his friend having to steady him before he garners some self-control.

“You amaze me, Bellamy Blake,” Jasper marvels, reaching up to run his hand through Bellamy’s curls. Again, Bellamy smacks his hand away, earning a cheesy grin from Jasper. “Am I going to see you at my party tonight?”

Bellamy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in faux contemplation, before glancing back at Jasper with a half-smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

If Jasper has perfected one skill in his life, it’s partying. His parents are entrepreneurs, or something where they travel all the damn time, Bellamy doesn’t really remember – he just recalls relating to Jasper on the absent parent subject. The two became fast friends in their freshman year, especially once Bellamy urged him to use his mansion of a house to host ragers almost every weekend. Now, Bellamy doesn’t even have to ask – Jasper thinks of them on his own, and the only thing he asks from Bellamy is to attend.

It’s definitely given Jasper some popularity. With Bellamy on the invite list, everyone else is sure to attend – he kind of knows everyone, and everyone kind of loves him. For what, Bellamy hasn’t exactly decoded yet. But he’s not complaining, the life of being well-liked in high school has its perks.

“Hell fucking yeah,” Jasper beams, reaching up for a high five.

Before Bellamy can return the gesture, a prominent voice rings through the crowd, echoing through the halls and stealing both of their attention. Bellamy’s gaze shifts to see Octavia, boisterously gesturing to her boyfriend and mouth moving a mile a minute. Atom appears to attempt to be listening to her, but Octavia doesn’t even appear to be addressing him – it’s almost like the conversation is for everyone by the way she looks like she’s presenting to them. Bellamy makes out a few key words; _green_ , _dress_ , _ugly_ , _how could she_ , and _psych ward_.

What catches his eye, however, is how Atom slips away from Octavia mid-rant. This isn’t unusual – Atom has a tendency to zone out whenever Octavia starts to rant. Bellamy could blame him for it, but after sixteen years with his sister, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t do it as well. To his credit, Octavia doesn’t seem to notice. She continues walking and talking, her voice loudly filling the halls as Atom treads behind her, more occupied with something on his phone. And then, Atom’s head lifts, his pace slows even more so, and he flashes a smile at Clarke Griffin right before he passes by her and her friends.

Bellamy furrows his eyebrows, grip tightening on the strap of the backpack. By the time Atom’s zoned back into reality, Bellamy’s eyes have narrowed, mouth twisted into a snarl. He catches his sister’s boyfriend’s eye, and the look of alarm flashing across Atom’s face just irritates Bellamy more. He steps forward, not really sure what he plans to do to him, only certain about the fact that he’s skeptical about the exchange, when Jasper grabs a hold of his forearm.

Unsurprisingly, Jasper is gaping, “Your sister is coming to the party tonight, right?”

“Fuck off,” Bellamy snaps, Jasper shrinking away from him. “I need you to stop being obviously in love with my sister.”

“I-I’m not,” Jasper stammers, although a flush of red colors his cheeks. “I just want your sister to know she’s welcome at any of my events!”

Bellamy’s about to taunt Jasper for his formalities, when that familiar voice is now shrill in his ears beside him. “Aw, Jasper, you’re too cute.”

Jasper’s cheeks visibly heat, “Oh, well, Octavia–”

Atom interjects himself in between him and his sister, slinging his arm around Octavia to plant a kiss on her cheek. She giggles like a schoolgirl, leaning into his embrace, completely forgetting about whatever she was ranting about five seconds prior. Bellamy purses his lips, his glare intent on Atom as he begins to attack her neck with kisses. It’s gross, for one, to be doing this in the middle of the fucking hall, much less in front of his girlfriend’s big brother. He’s found himself another reason to be irritated with Atom, not that he needs many excuses. His sister doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong with the encounter as she draws back, staring with wide puppy dog eyes at her boyfriend, but Atom is the one not oblivious to Bellamy’s intense stare.

“Bellamy, hey,” Atom’s voice wavers.

“Hey,” Bellamy deadpans.

Octavia shoots him a glare, but she knows he won’t correct himself. With a dramatic sigh, she turns back to Jasper, and shoots him a toothy grin. “Atom and I will both be at your party tonight, Jas. Bellamy’s driving us.”

“Us?” Bellamy snaps, arms crossing over his chest with a quirked brow.

Octavia smiles sweetly. “Oh, come on, big brother. Wouldn’t you do anything for your baby sister?”

* * *

The whistle signaling the end of practice sings through the air as Bellamy hunches over, coughing for air. Finn comes running alongside him, halting to a stop. He’s a lot more dramatic than Bellamy is, or maybe he’s just not up to date with the fast-faced style of their football team. There’s a reason they’re at the top of the roster – mostly because of Bellamy, but he has to give some partial credit to their couch.

“Always on the ball, Blake,” Coach Kane comments with a boisterous smile. He strides up to him and Finn as the rest of the team comes piling in from their cool-down. Surveying over Finn, he hums, “Collins. Not bad.”

Bellamy straightens, a heavy smile resting on his features. “Thanks, Coach.”

“If you keep this up, you’ll be first in line for that scholarship,” Kane slaps his hand on the back of Bellamy’s shoulder with a tight smile. “Those scouts are going to be all over you.”

Sweat drips from Bellamy’s temple, breath still stolen from the miles he had been running. He catches the sideways glance that Finn sends his way, not certain if it’s jealousy or curiosity, but chooses to ignore it anyway. Praise from Kane is rare, and even though Bellamy is his star player, he knows how smug his captain can get. Not that Bellamy has anything to be modest about, not when he’s the reason this team is pulling scores.

Bellamy prefers to be the reason the team is pulling anything, really. No need for scouts to be looking at anyone, but hum. Especially not when he’s the one who financially needs it most.

What he has in arrogance, at least he makes up for in actual talent. It’s what is going to finance his tuition, and allow him to attend a really good program. Graduation is a couple months away, but applications are already out; and he’s applied to pretty much every school in state. Even some farther away, but those are less of an option. He’d have to leave Octavia behind if he went any farther.

“I plan on it,” Bellamy smirks. Kane nudges him, giving him a warning look for the smug attitude. “Don’t worry, Coach. You can count on me.”

“I sure hope so,” Kane says. “Scouts are going to be at the Homecoming game. I convinced them to come and see you. You better not disappoint.”

Bellamy swallows thickly, masking it as taking a breath when he’s really trying to shovel away his nerves. “Have I ever disappointed you?”

Kane squeezes Bellamy’s shoulder before he saunters away, waving his hand to dismiss the rest of the team. Bellamy watches as Kane whisks through the gates of the football field. On cue, the cheerleading squad bounces out, all giggly and giddy that they now have the field. Octavia leads the pack, as she always does. The Blake’s are natural born captains, what can they say?

Bellamy tips his head to Finn, the new recruit he’s given the pleasure of acknowledging. He’d been mirroring him all practice, so Bellamy makes a mental note to be wary of him. But he looks away before he can gauge Finn’s reaction, striding over to Octavia as lingers by the gate.

His sister already looks annoyed by his presence. “Bellamy, I’m busy.” She stares out onto the field, and Bellamy follows her gaze to Bree chatting leisurely with Harper a couple feet away. Octavia barks out, “Ladies! I don’t train you to chat! Start stretching!”

“Relax,” Bellamy sneers, shifting his gaze back to her. She rolls her eyes, glancing back at him as he sighs deeply, praying for patience. “Should I wait for you? Or do you have your own ride?”

“I have a ride,” Octavia states blankly.

Bellamy squints. “Who? Didn’t Atom go home already?”

“I am fully capable of finding my own ride home.”

“I can wait for you–”

“Don’t wait.”

Octavia snaps her head towards the squad congregating on the field, all scrambling to stretch before they face their captain’s wrath. She doesn’t wait for her brother to reply, skipping off to meet her team and stretch with them. Bellamy runs his hand through his curls, slicked with sweat. He’s far too fatigued to argue with his sister, especially when she’s in captain mode.

Bellamy swivels around to head back into the changerooms to shower, intent on not stinking up his car. Instead, he collides with Clarke Griffin, who squeals in disgust as his sweaty body meshes with her uniform. She jolts back, swatting at the non-existent stains with her palms, while Bellamy watches her erupt into disarray.

“Damn princess,” A smirk crawls onto Bellamy’s face. “Don’t like the smell of hard work? I know you wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

“I’m a grade below you, and in majority of your classes,” Clarke smoothens out her uniform, before glaring at him with fire interlacing her icy blue eyes. “Don’t talk to me about hard work.”

Bellamy decides to leave her lingering with his smirk, obviously surveying over her in her cheerleading uniform beforehand. Short skirt, showcasing her long, creamy legs and a tank top, the acronym of Arkadia High sprawled across her chest. He makes a point to stare a little longer than he should. As predicted, Clarke takes note, meeting with a scowl when his eyes finally flicker up to hers in acknowledgment. He winks, hoping to get her all riled up for Octavia before practice, brushing past her.

“Hey, wait,” Clarke spins around, calling out to him. He turns, with an arched brow. She suddenly looks reserved, her hotly expression fading to a sheepish stare as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Speaking of classes–”

“Hell no,” Bellamy scoffs and before she can say anything else, he turns away again.

Clarke scrambles to charge in front of him. Her presence makes him stagger back, surprise that she’s actually fighting for something like this. He knows what this is about – Mr. Pike’s History class. They have the top grades, and the rest of the students usually try to mooch off of them. Normally, Bellamy does majority of the work, unless his partner is someone who’s trying to sleep with him, and even then, their input is nothing other than ‘that seems about right’ and ‘you’re so good at this’. He has no doubt Clarke is in the same boat.

He’s thought about working with her numerous times before. Bellamy pokes his fun, but Clarke’s right, she is a hard worker and her grades are phenomenal. They would be a powerful duo, and probably impress Mr. Pike greatly. But he can do that all on his own, too. He doesn’t need her. Although, he stands still, eyes dancing with anticipation, just to see what she’s going to say to him.

“This project is worth twenty percent of our grade,” Clarke starts slow, rational. “And I don’t like you either, trust me. But I need to start off strong if I want to get into good colleges.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, princess, I’m the one actually applying for college _this year_.” Bellamy points out. “And if I was worried, hell, if I was desperate, I would have already come to you.”

“I’m not desperate,” Clarke huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m telling you, the smartest thing to do is to work together. How is that not getting across your pea-sized brain?”

Bellamy glowers down at her, and she looks up at him all the more defiantly. She’s a spitfire, and matches his speed in pretty much anything, but he’ll be damned if he has to encounter Clarke Griffin more than he needs to. He knows he’s going to do well on this assignment, with or without her. But damn, it sure is fun to see her pleading for his assistance.

He steps forward, his glower morphing into a subtle amusement. “Are you going to beg me for my pea-sized brain?”

“Well, I’m not interested in anything else,” Clarke deadpans.

“Oh, I promise you, princess. My brain is far from pea-sized, just like everything else about me.”

A flush of red colors her cheeks, as a lap of triumph clouds his chest. Clarke tears her eyes from him, pretending to be fixated on tugging down her skirt. Bellamy chuckles to himself, sauntering backwards from her, just to give her the space that she clearly needs. He loves being able to get her all flustered, all bothered, with just a couple of choice words. It gives the relentless teasing a promising incentive.

“Do you want to be partners, or not?” Clarke jerks her head upwards, eyes narrowed.

Bellamy shrugs, his smirk uncontainable. “I rather stick pins in my eyes.”

Clarke scowls, “That can be arranged.”

“Clarke! If you don’t get your ass over here, I’m kicking your lazy ass off the squad!” Octavia bellows from over the field.

She turns her attention towards the other irritating Blake in her life. With a smile so plastic, Clarke tips her hand upwards, her middle finger extending nice and long for her cheer captain. Octavia narrows her eyes, her head snapping to Bellamy for retribution. Bellamy shrugs, leaving her to fight her own battles. It’s the only time he’ll ever do it, and normally, Octavia’s got a pretty good hold on herself when it comes to Clarke. Whatever spite lays between Bellamy and Clarke, it’s almost a crumb compared to what she and Octavia harbor for one another.

Clarke’s always been a lot more fiery with Octavia, probably because of their decade long feud that seems to enhance them into evolved, egotistical versions of themselves every time one of them fucks the other over. Honestly, it scares Bellamy sometimes, because he knows how his sister can get. But every time, Clarke matches with the same, if not more advanced, fiery and knocks Octavia down a peg. Until his sister is ready to snap back with full vengeance.

“Better get over there,” Bellamy supplies. Part of him will always innately help Octavia, even in the most subtle of ways. “Have to listen to your captain, right?”

There’s a flicker in Clarke’s eye, and Bellamy catches the way her mouth twitches. She wants to open her mouth, spit some fire, but no worthy sentence of wit formulates on her tongue. Instead, she glares, and settles on something so basic, “Screw you, Bellamy.”

“That can be arranged,” Bellamy grins wolfishly.

Clarke shakes her head, a scowl forming on her lips. But this time, she doesn’t say anything. She brushes past him, shoulder colliding roughly with his as she sprints towards the field. Bellamy glances over his shoulder, watching her ponytail bob and skirt bounce as she joins her team.

Bellamy almost thinks about it, for a moment. His conversation with Octavia, just earlier that morning – _I need you to fuck Clarke Griffin_. Maybe in another world, he would. She’s mouthy to him here, probably just as much so in bed. He’d have a good time with her, pretend it didn’t happen the next day, and merge their separate ways. But part of him knows that’s a lie, that if circumstances were different and he and Clarke could somehow manage to be civil; it would be explosion after explosion.

They’d never work, not in this world or another. But damn, if it isn’t fucking fun to think about.

“Hey,” Finn’s voice breaks him out of his stare. He nods towards the squad of cheerleaders. “You know Clarke?”

“You could say that,” Bellamy shrugs. “Why do you want to know?”

“I think she’s really cool. I’ve been talking to her a bit.”

Bellamy squints, eyes glancing over Finn. His average build, floppy hair and boyish face could definitely do a number on a lot of the girls at this school. And he’s a half-decent football player by the looks of it. Not to mention, Bellamy recalls Octavia mentioning something about Clarke having her eye on him to be a Homecoming pair.

“What’s that got to do with me?” Bellamy arches a brow.

“It looked like you guys were friends,” Finn replies. “Thought you could put in a good word.”

Something inside of Bellamy just can’t help it. He chuckles lowly, clapping his hand down on Finn’s shoulder so hard that he startles the poor rookie. Finn stares at him, a bit bewildered and quite confused, but a nervous smile appears on his features.

“There’s no good words about Clarke Griffin,” Bellamy huffs. “Let me give you that warning now, before you’re in too deep.”

Bellamy drops his hand from Finn’s shoulder, staring out into the field one more time. Octavia’s barking out orders about proper stretching, while the rest of the girls struggle to keep up. Except Clarke, of course, who can be nothing short of great in her eyes. Her hands are clasped above her head, and she leans over slowly, before straightening out into a perfect posture pose.

Clarke’s head swivels around to the gate where he and Finn are standing. Her ponytail swishes behind her, the pinnacle of innocence gracing her features. Bellamy thinks she’s looking at Finn, her doe-eyes sparkling in their direction. But then, his eyes lock to hers, and she must realize it, because the light turns to dark instantly. He raises his hand to give her a teasing, little wave.

He can’t pinpoint the exact time he started his tirade against her, but if he had to guess, it started with Octavia – like all things to. But there’s a genuine joy in riling her up, one knows Bellamy should probably be ashamed of. It’s not even that she makes it easy, because she doesn’t. Clarke is equal to him in wit, charm and intelligence and somedays, it’s a struggle to get a rise out of her.

But that makes it all the more fun when he does.

Clarke narrows her eyes at him, a snarl curling onto her lips. He think he may get the finger in response, too, but then she just swivels her attention back to the squad. Bellamy watches as she arches her back, stretching out her spine, and can pinpoint the exact moment she actively chooses to ignore him.

“Trust me, Finn,” Bellamy’s still staring at Clarke, his eyes – for whatever reason – cemented on her. “Save yourself now.”

His eyes linger, just for a moment on the princess across the field. She turns back, only once, just to shoot him a glare to scare him away. It doesn’t do much, but Finn’s sideways glance comes into his peripheral vision. He turns to his teammate, and nudges him playfully, before heading off to the showers to rinse off the day.

* * *

Someone’s hanging off of his arm, and although he’s pretty sure that it’s Bree, Bellamy’s mind is elsewhere. The music pounds off the walls, a horrible choice in techno resonating in his ears as he tries to focus on the scene before him. His gaze drifts over to Octavia draping herself over Atom, mingled in between a crowd of students. He wouldn’t be surprised if the whole student body was here, crammed into Jasper’s house on this Friday night. They all crowd in the center of the living room, most noticeably around Octavia.

Bellamy hasn’t had anything to drink tonight, while Octavia has seemed to have chugged a couple of bottles. He doesn’t mind being sober, but he minds being a fucking babysitter. His home life is already occupied with everything Octavia, and now since she’s been climbing the social latter, she ingrains into his personal life as well.

“Babe,” Bree’s whiny voice echoes through his ear. He forces himself to turn to look at her, Bree smiling seductively, leaning up to draw her lips against his ear. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Normally, Bellamy wouldn’t hesitate to take her upstairs or shuffle her into a nearby bathroom, plow her for a quickie and be done with it. But tonight’s not shaping up to be his night. “Can’t. Got to keep an eye on Octavia.”

“She’s with her boyfriend,” Bree pouts.

“Don’t care,” Bellamy scowls, shaking his arm out of her grip. He swivels his gaze back to the dancefloor, Octavia and Atom now missing. “Shit.”

Clobbering through the crowd, Bellamy abandons Bree by the couch they were lounging off of. He makes a mental note to find her towards the end of the night, just to keep him occupied. But for now, all he can think about is Octavia doing God knows what. He can never fucking trust her at these parties, and he can barely trust her hormone infested boyfriend to care for himself, much less her.

He stumbles into the kitchen, not tipsy or even the slightest bit intoxicated – just annoyed, having to ravage this place for his sister. Jasper’s house is a twisty turvy maze of many unnecessary rooms and Octavia is a hot mess of not being where she’s supposed to be. It makes for a bad combination. And honestly, Bellamy would rather have Bree slinging off his arm right now so that he could have some fun. Which is just always out of the question when Octavia is around.

The kitchen is mostly barren, if not for a few partygoers sneaking in some snacks. Jasper’s got an array of chips, salsa, hotdogs – he’s quite the host. At least he has the sense to know not to fill a house with drunk teenagers without some sort of food items to hold them over.

Bellamy waltzes over to the snack table with a huff, taking a chip and dipping it into the salsa. He bites off the corner with a crunch, and turns to resume his search. If not for him colliding with Clarke, who looks just as annoyed to see him as he feels.

“Can’t get enough of me, huh, princess?” Bellamy taunts.

Clarke shifts her weight from one foot to the other, arms crossed over her chest. “You’re so full of it, Bellamy. Sorry I’m one of the only girls not obsessed with you.”

“Oh, it’s only a matter of time.”

She shakes her head, averting her gaze from Bellamy as she brushes past him. She takes one look at the table and scrunches up her nose in disgust. Bellamy turns, his elbow propped up against the snack table. Clarke’s eyebrows are furrowed at the choices before her. Bellamy finishes off his singular chip, dusting his hands off.

“No silver platters?” Bellamy mocks.

“Shouldn’t you be attached to your sister right now?” Clarke bites back with a scowl, snapping her head towards him.

Normally, he’d chide her for such a snarky comment. Instead, Bellamy straightens. “You know where she is?”

“What do I care,” Clarke mutters.

“Well, I do. I lost track of her–”

“I don’t need the sob story, Bellamy. I don’t care, and honestly, neither should you.”

His eyes darken, confusion sprawling across his face. “You’ve been in this feud with Octavia long enough to know I’m not going to feed into your bullshit about my sister. She’s my responsibility–”

“I don’t have to be in a feud with your sister to know she’s a goddamn nuisance, Bellamy.” Clarke angles her body around to face him. She looks him up and down with the bat of her eyelashes, “And she has you wrapped around your finger. And you know it.”

“She’s my sister,” Bellamy reiterates, a snarl drawing on his lips. “I’d do anything for her.”

“She wouldn’t do the same for you,” Clarke shrugs.

Bellamy shakes his head, letting out a low chuckle. He stares down at Clarke, her eyes flickering up to meet his defiantly. Those blue eyes always manage to pull a smirk out of him. It curls across his lips, takes up his features, bleeds into his brain. There’s just something about Clarke Griffin that can just stomp on his nerves. A mixture of irritation and something more entirely; something he’s got to restrain himself with, especially when it comes to this feud between her and Octavia.

“You know nothing about my sister,” Bellamy growls. “And even less about me.”

“Oh, how I wish that was the case,” Clarke sighs dramatically. “Unfortunately, I’ve spent the past decade with her. I know exactly what kind of demon she is.”

The thing is, he knows their feud is mostly likely his sister’s fault. Feuds with an origin in kindergarten can’t fester until this full on war, not over a decade later. The succession of events was definitely a contributor, but so was his sister’s stubbornness, her need to be right, her desire to be the best. And maybe he enables it, surely did by starting the whatever-this-is between him and Clarke.

But at the end of the day, Octavia is Bellamy’s little sister. That’s who his loyalty lies with, that’s who he shares blood with. Clarke’s irritating in her own right; her snobby attitude, her holier-than-thou attitude. It boils his blood, pricks his nerves, ignites a fire in him that can only be extinguished by saying something equally snarky, or more so.

The only thing that makes it difficult is that she’s hot. And if she wasn’t his sister’s mortal enemy, he may have just banged her by now.

That’s all it is, though. Bellamy can keep himself at bay for one hot girl. His relationship with his sister trumps anyone he may have the desire to stick his dick into. Plus, Clarke would very likely just be another Bree. Someone who became infatuated with him, who could please him from time to time, but who he’d eventually grow tired of. At least, that’s what he’ll tell himself.

“Oh, poor, little princess,” Bellamy coos, feigning a pout.

“Poor little me,” Clarke mocks, eyes narrowing into slits. She surveys him up and down, “Honestly, Bellamy, I feel bad for you.”

“Oh yeah? And why is that?”

Clarke opens her mouth, eyes lit with intent. But something inside her mind must click, and she decides against it, sewing her mouth shut.

Bellamy tilts his head to the side, intrigued. “Hm? You were going to say something, princess.”

“You’re not worth it,” Clarke huffs, trying to brush past him.

He steps in front of her, blocking her exit. “If you can call my sister every name in the fucking book, you can say whatever was going on in that mind of yours.”

Clarke’s nostrils flare, annoyed, but tempted. Her eyes gloss over him, and a smirk tips on her lips. “I don’t even think you’d be able to comprehend what I was trying to say.”

“Try me.”

“I rather stick pins in my eyes.”

She whisks past him, her blonde hair flicking past her as she strides out of the kitchen. Bellamy’s body angles towards the exit, watching as she weaves back into the crowd. The only way he can keep an eye on her is watching that flowy blonde hair swish down her back, intricate, princess like waves. His eyes follow her to the staircase.

Through the archway separating the kitchen from the living room, Bellamy spots Clarke propping herself up at the edge of the stairs. She glances out at the crowd, squinting, as if she’s looking for someone. She doesn’t seem to locate that special someone, face falling. Yet, her head still turns, locking eyes with Bellamy, despite their distance. The smirk returns to her lips, and she doesn’t break eye contact, not even as she starts ascending the staircase.

Bellamy doesn’t tear his gaze away from her until she’s out of sight, disappeared upstairs to do God knows what with God knows who. Octavia’s told him a slew of rumors about Clarke, a good percentage of which he’s sure isn’t true, but what does he know? Clarke’s many things, many of which he’s a little intrigued to know. Not that he’ll ever admit it out loud.

He sighs deeply, ridding his head of Clarke and whatever the fuck she was going to say back there. It was probably just something to fuck with his head, that devious little mind of hers. Bellamy fishes his phone out of his back pocket, and dials Octavia’s number. It rings a couple of times, but inevitably goes to voicemail.

About to stride out of the kitchen in a panic, Bellamy’s phone vibrates in his hand. Of course, a text from his sister: _Can I have fun in peace? I’m outside, taking a breather with Atom._

Bellamy’s thumbs punch against the keyboard. _Let me know next time._

As expected, Octavia leaves him on read.

* * *

Lips interlocked with Bree, Bellamy allows himself to actually enjoy Jasper’s party. Everyone’s extremely drunk, and bouncing off the walls, but Bree’s practically been hanging off of him all night. Even been exclusively drinking water because Bellamy hasn’t been drinking, just so he could take her home. He may very well do that, but he also may not. A better offer could arise, after all.

Just as Bree’s hand comes up to his curls, legs ready to swing over his lap and straddle him, a frenzied voice shouts over the music.

“Bellamy!” Jasper calls out to him.

Bellamy hoists Bree off of him, squinting out at the crowd as Jasper weasels himself through it. He’s plastered, his pale complexion flushed red, floppy hair a mess. Bellamy greets his friend with a warm smile, as Bree slumps against his torso in defeat.

“Jasper,” Bellamy acknowledges him. “Great party, as always.”

Jasper stops at the foot of his couch, and that’s when Bellamy notices the fear painted across his expression. Bellamy straightens, nudging Bree off of him as Jasper huffs, trying to regain his breath. He hunches over, Bellamy leaning over trying to peer at him. Jasper looks up, regretful and upset.

“Jasper.” Bellamy’s voice is stern, the sinking feeling in his chest already telling him what his friend is going to say. “Jasper, what’s going on?”

“O-Octavia,” Jasper stammers out. Bellamy stands, as Jasper tries to get the words out, “She’s out back–”

Bellamy doesn’t wait for him to finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to, not when he mentions Octavia. He pushes through the crowd, a lot more aggressively than he did last time. He’s sure people complain, whine at his rough approach, but he could care less. All that’s on his mind is Octavia, and even though that’s how it usually is, this is different. Something is wrong, and he wasn’t there to stop it from happening in the first place.

Throwing open the sliding door to the backyard, he heard Octavia before he sees her. Sobs echo throughout the night, sounding from a bench propped up on Jasper’s porch. Bellamy steps outside, finding his little sister tucked into herself on the porch. Knees curled up to her chest, head tucked into her knees, and sobs wracking through her body.

“Hey,” Bellamy says softly, swooping in to take her in his arms. “Octavia, O, it’s me.” She only cries harder, as he rests his chin on her shoulder. “I’m here. I’m here.”

Octavia lifts her head, face blotchy – a mixture of whatever she was drinking and her sobs. Her eyes stained red, her nose scrunching up into a sniffle. Her face twists into this wretched cry, and Bellamy’s heart shatters in his chest. She hasn’t cried like this in so long, hasn’t wept at all in the past handful of years. But he remembers the last time she did, when she sprained her ankle falling off her bike, when he looked away for just a second – and this is all the more painful.

“Oh, Bellamy,” Octavia cries. She twists her body so that her face falls into his shoulder, and the sobs resume.

Bellamy holds her close, shushing her with his soft whistles, hand rubbing against her back. Jasper stumbles outside, his heavy footsteps pounding against the wood of the deck. Bellamy doesn’t acknowledge him, although he’s sure that guy is just staring awkwardly at the two of them. All he cares about is his sister, distraught in his arms.

“I-I can get Atom,” Jasper stutters.

It’s the first time Bellamy notices he’s not here. Octavia sobs harder at the sound of his name, a screech like sounding emitting from her lips. It clicks for him then, and Bellamy forces himself to draw back. Octavia’s body hunches over, her chest heaving up and down erratically. He holds her by the forearms, trying to keep her upright.

“What did he do?” Bellamy orders. Octavia’s sobs have subsided to weeps, her chest leveling, but she doesn’t say anything. “Octavia, what did he do?”

The water in Octavia’s eyes morph into a fire. There’s the glisten of tears still present, but her expression hardens. The cries that have stained her face amplify the anger, and she takes one, long breath. Bellamy waits, as patiently as he can possibly muster, while Octavia gathers enough strength to speak.

“Clarke,” Octavia croaks. “It was Clarke.”

“What did she do?” Bellamy corrects himself, the heat still coursing through his veins.

Octavia shakes her head, lips pursed tightly to refrain from bursting into tears once more. She reserves herself, finding her breath. “Clarke and Atom. It was Clarke and Atom, they were…” His little sister hesitates, and then, as if a foul taste is on her mouth, says, “I found them in the bedroom.”

* * *

His little sister weeps in his lap that night. Bellamy’s propped up on the couch, lightly stroking Octavia’s head as she sobs. She never stopped crying, not the whole car ride home, instantly collapsing into his arms when they made it through the front door. His sister has never been someone of few words, but she’s barely been able to grasp for a breath since he found her in Jasper’s backyard.

“O,” Bellamy coaxes, “Tell me what happened. Tell me how I can fix this.”

He already has a starting point – Atom. His blood is boiling, fume exhausting from his nostrils, but he has to keep it in check for now, for Octavia. When she drifts off to sleep, his plan is to head straight over to Atom’s house and knock his knuckles against his skull. He should have been more persistent with his gut feeling, should have insisted to Octavia that he was not a good guy, instead of just telling her. She’d brushed him off then, irritated, but Bellamy’s stomach churns knowing he could have spared her this heartache.

And then, there’s Clarke. He’s not stupid, he can piece two and two together. Octavia doesn’t really have to say anything at all, but he’d like to know the logistics before he reigns hell on her, too. He’d have to be more crafty with Clarke, nothing physical but everything personal. Their feud has reached some pretty dire lengths before, but this is a new low, and one that Bellamy’s not going to be a bystander for this time.

Octavia sniffles, curling into herself. He stares down at her, watching as she swipes away at the hot tears running down her cheeks. She takes a deep, shaky breath, collecting herself. Far from poised, Octavia straightens beside him. Sinking into the cushion next to Bellamy, her eyes are wide, stained red, but alert. Bellamy adjusts himself on the couch, intent to listen. Clearly, he doesn’t need a plan – Octavia appears to already have one.

“I’m going to _destroy_ Clarke Griffin,” Octavia snarls, voice strained from her sobs, but still stern. She reaches over, grabbing her brother’s hand and squeezing it. “And I need your help.”

Bellamy doesn’t have to ask or pry for more information. He knows exactly what she’s asking. His mind flashes back to this morning, to their conversation about the princess. While he’s still not estatic about the idea, while there’s still a voice at the back of his mind telling him this might be too far, while his chest constricts and while his throat goes dry, he stares at his sister and her tear-stained face and feels her grip tighten on his hand. And he knows he has to do this, for her.

He swallows thickly, bringing back some moisture to his throat. “I’ll take care of it.”

A slow smirk crawls across Octavia’s features, a scary image amongst her blotchy face and red eyes. But Bellamy takes it in stride, remembers who and what he’s doing this for. He allows himself to rid of his moral conscience for now, while his heartbroken sister launches into her spiel before him, until the early hours of the morning.

* * *

The tension of Monday morning weighs down Bellamy’s shoulders. Octavia has been re-working her plan all weekend, intent on a precise timeline and course of events. He would love to see her put this much enthusiasm into any of her schoolwork, but honestly, he prefers this side of her to her heartache. And if this can help – or at least, disguise it for a bit, then he’s all for it.

Not to mention, Bellamy’s been thinking about Clarke all weekend. There’s part of him, a large portion, that feels insanely guilty, that’s telling him this is taking it too far. Inserting himself into this war between her and his sister is only going to magnify things, and that’s certainly not going to be useful to Octavia in the long run. This is his last year here, he won’t be at this school next year in order to protect her.

But then, he remembers Atom. Bellamy has him to blame for all of this. To cheat on Octavia is one thing, completely unforgivable and deserving of a few stray punches. To cheat on Octavia with her mortal enemy is another, something so cruel and undeserving that Bellamy yearns to pummel him six feet under the football field. Octavia’s not so interested in that plan, so Bellamy settles on taking down Clarke in order to take down Atom instead.

It's a fair fight, he supposes. Clarke and Octavia’s feud escalates to something even more malice every year. He’s not sure how much farther it can get than this, but he hopes this will be the final showdown for the both of them. Part of him has to credit Octavia – this will destroy Clarke. She won’t be able to come back from this, and you know what, maybe that’s what his sister needs. She’d never concede, never be the one to lose – he can stop this from going any further.

“You know the plan, right?” Octavia whispers hurriedly to her brother as they stride down the halls of Arkadia High. “You have it _memorized_?”

Bellamy sighs, blowing out his exasperations. “You’ve ingrained it into my head over the weekend, O.”

“Good. That’s how it should be. That way, it almost feels natural. But not too natural. You can’t actually fall in love with her.”

“Won’t be a problem,” Bellamy halts, wrapping his fingers around his sister’s wrist so that she stops, as well. “But this whole plan, it just seems to be getting back at Clarke. What about Atom?”

“That skank is going to get what’s coming to her,” Octavia snarls, a vengeance in her eye. “You leave Atom to me.”

“You should be leaving him to me.”

“I don’t want him _dead_.”

“That makes one of us.”

“Get ahold of yourself, Bellamy,” Octavia hisses. Bellamy leans against the lockers, rolling his eyes with a huff as his sister steps forward to glare at him. “I’m the victim here. This is _my plan_. You’re helping _me_.”

Bellamy stares back at his sister, a humorless chuckle leaving his lips. He shakes his head in disbelief, although Octavia’s ludicrous nature should be nothing new to him. Really, he has nobody to blame exclusively, but himself for enabling her. But not being there for his sister is more painful than aiding her plans, than soothing her heartache, than being there for her at all. So, he swallows any semblance of his pride and nods in agreeance.

Octavia straightens, crossing her arms over her chest as the ends of her lips tip up into the smallest of smiles. The bell rings above their heads, a warning to get to class. She merely brushes off the sound. “Good. So, you understand what I need you to do?”

“Make Clarke Griffin fall in love with me,” Bellamy replies, purposefully too casual. “Easy enough.”

“I’m serious, Bellamy. You can’t just flip your hair and make girls obsessed with you.”

“You’d be surprised how often it works.”

“Shut up. Walk me through what you have to do.”

“Seriously, O? I have to get to class.”

“Better be quick about it then.”

Bellamy jerks up from his stance against the lockers, brushing off his clothes. The students crowded together in the hallway have dispersed, for the most part, all hurriedly rushing to class. Bellamy glances around the hall, ensuring that nobody that this plan includes is around to hear what he has to say. Octavia just waits patiently, unconcerned about the student body surrounding her, tapping her foot against the tile.

“Become her partner in class, try to befriend her–” He starts.

“ _Try_?” Octavia pesters.

“ _Befriend her_ ,” Bellamy corrects himself with a huff. “Ask her out, make her my homecoming date, dump her in front of the whole school.”

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”

“I just want to go to class.”

“Fine, go, _nerd_ ,” Octavia glowers. Bellamy takes one step forward to push past her, only for his sister to grab her arm. “And don’t ask her about Atom. We’re keeping that on the down-low.”

“The down-low?” Bellamy seethes. “She screwed your boyfriend. Wouldn’t that paint her as a homewrecker if everyone knew?”

“It would look just as bad for her as it would me.”

“How? People would be on your side–”

“I’m _not_ letting people know Clarke Griffin has the upper hand,” Octavia scowls. “Plus, if she thinks you know, she’ll be suspicious as to why you’re hanging around her.” Bellamy runs his hand through his hair, sighing. “Let her think she’s getting away with it. Let her think that you’re into her, despite what it would do to me. Let Clarke _think_ she has the upper hand.”

The bell rings for a second time, and the two of them should already be in class. Octavia never tears her gaze away from him, staring with such a vengeance, such a determination that it nearly frightens him. She’s hurting, and he knows that. If this is going to help, which she insists it is, then he’ll do it. Especially if it makes this whole vigilante ego she has going on, disappear.

Bellamy nods, not saying a word as he steps away from her. Octavia lets him go this time, swiveling around on her heel and striding off to class without a word. The hallway is mostly empty now, no students whisking through. He can hear the click of Octavia’s heels as she rounds the corner, letting out a breath when she disappears from sight. The weight of this plan is already getting to him, and the day hasn’t even started.

* * *

“I hope everyone’s chosen their partners wisely,” Mr. Pike cautions, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed over his chest. He surveys over his class, who for the most part, is numbly quiet. “If you haven’t, I’m going to give you the first five minutes to find someone. And if you don’t, you give me the sweet liberty of choosing for you.”

Bellamy’s gaze drifts to the back of Clarke’s head. She’s not even looking at him, her head not even hesitating to swivel around the classroom. He worries she already found a partner over the weekend, especially after his dismissal of her just a couple days earlier. She probably wouldn’t want to work with him now, considering that he would most likely know what she did with Atom. But in order for this plan to work, to even begin, he needs to become her partner. He can’t let his doubts and worries about morality and practicality sink in now. Not like he ever cared about that when he was around Clarke before.

He stands before Mr. Pike can even finish his sentence. Mr. Pike eyes him skeptically, but ultimately says nothing. Clarke still hasn’t turned around to acknowledge the rest of the class, as their peers disperse into their partners. Bellamy switches on the boyish charm that’s been getting him this far, and strides over to Clarke, his classic smirk sprawled across his face. Grabbing a chair from the desk beside her, he flips it around so that he’s straddling the seat, and stares right at her.

Clarke’s head is still ducked down into her textbook, but her eyes flicker up to greet his. His boyish charm doesn’t seem to be doing much, not that it ever does with Clarke. But it’s like she can sense the false sincerity, her eyes narrowing into slits as he sits before her. When her glare doesn’t move him elsewhere, she straightens, leaning back into her chair with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Oh, this has got to be good.” Clarke chastises.

Bellamy chuckles lowly. “I was thinking about what you said. You’re right. We’d make a really great team.”

“Is that so? You’ve figured that out over the weekend?”

“In the span between when you asked me and today, so the weekend. Yeah.”

He’s got to give Clarke some credit, because she’s not stupid. She’s probably one of the smartest people he knows, besides himself. Her intelligence is what got her into this class, a whole year below him and the rest of their classmates. And it’s what’s urging her to study him, to inherently know that something is up.

But Bellamy is just as smart, and he can be just as coy if he wants to be. Clarke wants to act like she’s the pinnacle of innocence, like she didn’t screw over his sister in more ways than one, that she’s the victim in all of this – fine. He can act like he’s just looking for a good grade, like he’s mending the fences, and along the way, pretend that he genuinely finds her interesting to be around.

“Is this about my sister?” Bellamy sighs deeply, running his hand through his head. Clarke tenses, and he fights the urge to crack a smirk. “Listen, I’ll keep my mouth shut if you do. She already has enough on her plate with her dick of a boyfriend.”

Clarke purses her lips, “So, she told you–”

“That they broke up? She told me Saturday morning, something about him not understanding her or vise versa. I don’t know, and honestly, I don’t care.”

She looks like she wants to interject, but Clarke chooses to screw her mouth shut. Bellamy tilts his head to the side, his curls flopping over his forehead as he studies Clarke. He can see the motion in her eyes, the internal debate as to whether or not she should say more. It would just implicate herself, tell him what he’s pretending not to know, and then this would all burst into flames. And the last thing he needs is for this whole thing to blow up before it even starts.

“Listen, the last thing I want to talk about is my sister,” Bellamy leans forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “I need a good grade in this class in order to get a scholarship. And I think you can help me get there.”

“What’s in it for me?” Clarke challenges, her tune switching just as Bellamy hoped.

“A good grade and an even better partner.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, but he doesn’t miss the tip of her lips turn upward. She leans forward, resting her own forearms on the edge of the desk. Inches away from his face, her amused smile morphs into an intrigued smirk. Her eyes survey over him, the blue casting an icy gaze over his body. He stays still, locking eyes with her, feeling the beat of his heart quicken and the adrenaline coursing through him.

“I’d like to see you beg,” Clarke teases.

“I don’t beg for anyone, princess,” Bellamy says.

“I’ll have you begging for me.”

He admires her perseverance, although he heats up at the way her eyes light up with mischief. Cheeks burning, Bellamy swallows thickly, trying to keep his straight expression, hoping Clarke doesn’t relish in the fact that she’s clearly got him bothered. But, because she’s Clarke Griffin, she notices, and her amusement only amplifies.

“Don’t worry,” Clarke leans back, folding her hands on the desk. “I’ll take it easy on you. Because I need this grade, too.”

This is working out to be a whole lot easier than he thought. He expects the guilt to set in, to feel bad for setting Clarke up in such a convoluted way. But it never comes. All that courses through him is triumph, a sense of victory, almost like he’s got the lead on the starting line in football. That may make him a bad person, but Clarke’s not too far off from it. In fact, he’s sure they’re on the exact same playing field.

His arm hangs over his chair, watching as Clarke digs through her textbook, already discussing potential topics. He’s listening, albeit, just barely. They won’t solidify a topic right now, not with just a couple of minutes to discuss. He lets her ramble and talk about nonsense that she finds just so interesting.

Bellamy’s mind wanders to just a couple weeks from now. This whole charade has an end, one that he’s already itching towards. He just hopes he can have everything implode once this project is done, so that he doesn’t have to deal with Clarke in the aftermath. Because as he fixates on her, watches her mouth move a mile a minute, and eyes scan frantically across the page, he can already foresee the explosion of the two of them.

* * *

Clarke only speaks to him when they’re in class. She doesn’t acknowledge him in the halls or even tip her head to him when they’re on the field. He doesn’t exist to her outside of Mr. Pike’s class, which he supposes is how it was before this whole charade. He was stupid to think one project with her would change their whole dynamic overnight.

Bellamy spots her when he walks into the cafeteria later that week. She already has her tray of food in hand, head scanning around for a seat. Her eyes meet his across the room, and he offers a smile and a wave. Clarke’s eyebrows furrow together, appalled by his gesture before she returns to searching for a table. The relief that washes over her face when she locates her friends is hard to ignore.

Clarke waltzes past him, ponytail bobbing behind her, to her table of friends. She acts like he’s not even there, brushing by him and taking a seat beside Bree. Her friends seem to take note of him, his ears perked to the murmurs they erupt into, but he doesn’t turn back to stare. If Clarke doesn’t want to associate with him, he’ll do the same to her. He has plenty of time to get her on his good side, and right now, he’s far too irritated to start.

By the time he’s collected his own items of food onto a tray, searching for his own friends, Octavia appears by his side.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Octavia seethes.

“To eat lunch,” Bellamy huffs.

“With?”

“With my friends?”

“Wrong. You’re going to go eat lunch with Clarke.”

Octavia nods her head towards Clarke’s table. Bellamy forces himself to follow her gaze, watching as Clarke chats away leisurely with her friends. He recognizes all of them, including the two he’s slept with; Raven and Bree. His stomach churns, and he’s ready to say no and leave his sister standing alone, when he finds Atom sitting across from Clarke, Finn by his side.

“I thought you were taking care of Atom,” Bellamy sneers.

“I am,” Octavia insists. “But I can’t just walk over there and sit with them.” She places her hands on his back, and pushes him slightly forward. “Now, go see if they’re talking about me.”

Bellamy staggers forward, glancing over his shoulder to stare sharply at his sister. Octavia merely waves him on, unbothered and focused on one thing and one thing only. He wishes he could second-guess why he agreed to this in the first place, but a flash back to his sister’s sobbing face that night is enough to remind him. He sighs, staring forward and walking over to Clarke’s table.

Atom catches sight of him first. He looks panicked, to say the least. And he should be, because if it were not for Octavia’s strict restraints, Atom probably wouldn’t have any nerves left to appear panicked. Yet, Bellamy ensures that his face is as stoic as possible as he slips into the seat beside Clarke, and begins picking away at his food, like he belongs there.

“Bellamy,” Bree gushes. “You came to eat lunch with me?”

Raven snorts, earning a glare from Bree. Bellamy doesn’t pay her any mind, simply turning his gaze to Clarke, who looks on with a puzzled expression. He doesn’t miss the irritation etched into her pout, and in fact, it brings a small smile to his face.

“I came to keep Clarke company,” Bellamy jokes. “She’s actually not so bad to be around, seeing as she actually has valid opinions about our history project.”

“History project?” Atom interjects, a slight quirk to his voice. He glances at Clarke, eyes leveling with her. “You two are working together for your history project?”

A blush rises to Clarke’s cheeks. She looks to Atom with an apologetic expression, one that Bellamy takes note of. Octavia had insisted that whatever drunken happenstance occurred between them, that it was just a one night thing – and it seemed to be that way. Except there was an obvious friendship festering, if not cemented between the two. It almost irked Bellamy as much as their one-night fling did. Almost.

The annoyance mixed with plight registered across Atom’s face is pleasing, however. Bellamy lets a smirk curl onto his lips as he slings an arm around Clarke. “Sure are. Isn’t that right, princess?”

Clarke scrunches up her nose in disdain before shoving Bellamy off of her. He stumbles back, but regains his posture pretty quickly, a low chuckle emitting from his lips. The table is giving them some stares, all sporting mixed reactions. Atom looks a little fearful, Finn insanely confused, while Raven is amused and Bree is pissed the fuck off. He only takes mind to Clarke, though, as she shoots him a fiery glare. It shouldn’t ignite a fire in his chest, but it does, as he reaches over to steal a fry from her tray.

Bellamy understands he’s supposed to be getting Clarke to like him. But this is so much more fun. He’s not sure how Octavia expects him to switch off his feelings towards Clarke, or act like he doesn’t get a kick out of riling her up. It’s always been a part of their interactions, so much so that he doesn’t quite understand how to present himself around her otherwise. It’s not like she’s just a girl he wants to bang, she’s someone that he and his sister are actively planning to take down. It leaves things pretty up in the air.

“Princess,” Finn tries the name on his tongue. “I didn’t know you two were friends.”

“We’re not,” Clarke snaps her head towards Finn. _Ah,_ Bellamy realizes, _Finn is the one she wants_. He makes a mental note to remember that for later, as Clarke forces a sweet smile. “I barely know him.”

“Oh, you know me well,” Bellamy taunts. He looks to Finn with a wink, “ _Very_ well.”

Clarke smacks Bellamy’s chest so forcefully, he winces. Although, she does a decent job of playing it off like it was nothing other than a friendly gesture. “He’s kidding.”

“You wish.”

That comment alone earns a whistle from Raven. “Damn, Clarke, I didn’t think you’d completed the group.”

“The group?” Bellamy inquires.

“Our friend group,” Raven supplies helpfully. “Considering you slept with me, Bree and Roma – before she graduated.”

Bellamy thinks that maybe some part of him he should feel shameful, but he just offers a shrug in reply. He did sleep with all of them, and he didn’t try to hide it or mask his intentions. But Clarke looks absolutely mortified, and any nonchalant stature about him cracks into amusement as she hurriedly goes to explain.

“We didn’t sleep together!” Clarke hisses to Raven before turning to Atom and Finn. “We haven’t. And we won’t ever.”

“Never say never.” Bellamy pokes his tongue out of his cheek, his smirk growing when he sees the fire in Clarke’s eyes.

“Shut the fuck up, Bellamy.”

“Come on, would it be such a bad idea?”

Finn stands abruptly from the table. Bellamy had nearly forgotten he was there, too wrapped up in the amusement of fucking with Clarke. The rookie runs his hand through his mop headed hair, offering a polite smile to the table as he takes his tray in his hand.

“I should get to class,” Finn excuses himself.

“Lunch just started,” Clarke leans forward, eyes pleading for him to say.

Bellamy stifles a laugh as Finn merely ducks his head in acknowledgement before walking away. Clarke watches him go, a forlorn look in her eye that manages to threaten Bellamy. He can’t seem to piece together why on Earth she would sleep with Atom if Finn was the one she wants to be with, but like everything – he assumes it began with Octavia.

Which reminds him of a certain someone sitting across the way. Bellamy turns his stare to Atom, and his sister’s ex-boyfriend already has her eyes glued to him. Except now the fear is replaced by something more quizzical, as if he’s trying to figure out Bellamy. Bellamy’s face twists into disapproval, offended Atom would be so bold as to even look at him that way. Atom doesn’t seem to soak in Bellamy’s stare, eyes squinted in a stare, evidently lost in his own thoughts.

Bellamy would say something, if Clarke wasn’t curling her fingers around his wrist. He looks to her, his fury easily seeping back into pure amusement. He’s not sure exactly what it is about Clarke that melts away his harshness; he can give her snarky remarks and sharp stares, but when he looks at her, his chest deflates. It’s a certain relaxed stature that he doesn’t have with anyone else, and one that he hadn’t quite acknowledged or appreciated until this very moment.

“Are you trying to screw me over?” Clarke snarls.

“Or are you trying to screw her?” Raven interjects.

He looks down at her, his smirk surprisingly replaced with a playful smile. “What can I say? You’re fun to be around, princess.”

“Stop calling me that,” Clarke hisses.

“Maybe when you stop being one.”

“You don’t know one thing about me.”

“What if I want to know everything about you?”

It surprises him, the phrase tumbling out of his mouth. The sentence stuns the table into silence, even Raven as she sips on her juicebox. Bree is foaming at the mouth and Clarke sinks back from him, stunned. He covers it up with one of his easy smirks and wink, implying that he’s flirting or joking or something in between. But he can’t ignore the thump of his heart or the bead of sweat that threatens to form on his temple.

“What did Octavia say to you?” The question saves Bellamy from messing up further, but earns quite the intriguing stares from the table. Atom stares at him, all too blank and curious. “About why we broke up?”

Bellamy tips his chin upwards, tongue grazing over his teeth. His hands urge to curl into fists, but he finds the control. “She said nothing. I thought you two would be over your bitch fit by now.”

“Bitch fit,” Atom says slowly, a huff emitting from his lips. “Is that what she said it was?”

He looks like he’s about to elaborate when Clarke shoots him a panicked stare. She shakes her head hurriedly, and Bellamy’s not sure if she knows he catches it, but he does. Atom seems to take the hint, accepting defeat as he ducks his head downward. Bellamy glances around the table, and Bree and Raven look as confused as he does.

Octavia was right – the three of them want to keep that night at Jasper’s under wraps. Bellamy supposes that’s a good thing, seeing as it saves his sister for further embarrassment. But he coils at the thought of Atom and Clarke going through this unscathed, all while his sister spends her days heartbroken. Granted, she’s also plotting her revenge, which seems to be helping the grieving process.

Bellamy sinks back into his role; the only reason he’s sitting here is because of Octavia. Her plan, after all, is why he’s even speaking to Clarke Griffin as frequently as he is. And yet, he’s making a mess out of the whole thing by being a dick. And by the angered expression taking over Clarke’s features, that approach doesn’t appear to be working.

* * *

Bellamy is in the middle of drills when he spots Octavia pulling Jasper along onto the field. He tries to ignore them, although his curiosity is peaked, focusing solely on the task at hand. His team is alongside him, all busting their asses off, as is he. This is the final year for majority of them, and they can’t have distractions now. Granted, they should be used to interruptions from the younger Blake by this point.

Octavia drags Jasper by his wrist, the poor lanky boy stumbling behind her. Bellamy sighs deeply, muttering an apology to his teammates before he jogs off to meet his sister and their friend. He trudges over to where Octavia and Jasper are perched by the bleachers, hair slicked with sweat and really not in the mood for any of his sister’s shit.

“Octavia,” Bellamy greets her dryly. “What is it?”

“Jasper is going to be of service to you,” Octavia states plainly.

Bellamy squints at his sister, before turning his gaze to Jasper. “How is that?”

Jasper says nothing, in awe of having Octavia so close. With her hand wrapped around his wrist, the simple touch of the youngest Blake sister has seemed to put him under a spell. He’s too busy gawking at her to even notice Bellamy’s stare that soon turns to a glower. Octavia has to nudge him back to life.

“Oh!” Jasper yelps back into focus. He looks to Bellamy, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Clarke is a friend of mine. I think I could make her change your mind about you.”

“I already got her to be my partner for our history project,” Bellamy exclaims, confusion seeping in. He glances around the football field, abandoned if not for the three of them and the team practicing off to the side. He leans in to whisper to his sister, “Octavia, I thought you said we were keeping this on the downlow.”

“We are,” Octavia hisses, eyes bulging at the fact that he’s even bringing this up. She looks back to Jasper with a sickly sweet smile, slicking her arm over his shoulder. “Jas knows I’m not bothered by my big brother’s crush on the school skank.”

Bellamy groans, scrubbing his hand over his face in exasperation. Jasper doesn’t seem to sense the sarcasm, or the fact that Octavia is blatantly lying to him, glancing between the two siblings with a glow of excitement. Bellamy’s considered Jasper a friend for years, while Octavia’s looked down at him as nothing but a fool who’s helplessly in love with her. It’s something she takes for granted, and Bellamy really shouldn’t stand for it.

He reasons with himself that he would say something to Jasper, other than the obvious fact that she’s not interested, if he didn’t have that doped-up expression on his face. Bellamy’s hand dangles at his side, looking upon Jasper with nothing but pity. _Fuck_. He likes this guy, and now Octavia’s dragged him into their fucked up plan. And he doesn’t even know it.

“You don’t have to do that, Jas,” Bellamy says. “I can handle Clarke on my own.”

“I don’t think you can,” Jasper admits honestly. “She hates you.”

“Well, she jumped at the chance to be my partner pretty easily.”

“Because Clarke is smart. Partnering up with you is a smart choice. Dating you would be catastrophic, in her eyes.”

Bellamy’s tongue runs over his lower lip, eyes darting to his sister, who already has her _Told-You-So_ expression sprawled along her features. He crosses his arms over his chest, peering down at Jasper, all bug-eyed and hopeful, ready to be of service. Sighing in defeat, he nods his head to Jasper, urging him to continue.

“You’ve got a reputation,” Jasper starts. “As a man whore.”

Octavia snorts, but is soon silenced by a glare from her brother.

“You’ve slept with all of her friends,” Jasper points out. “And then, you don’t talk to them after. Unless they’re called back for a booty call. And Clarke’s not like that.”

Bellamy resists the urge to snort. He can’t give anything away to Jasper, who undoubtedly does not know about what happened upstairs in his parents’ bedroom between Atom and Clarke. Clarke is exactly like that, hence why they’re doing all of this. So, he straightens, pretends to have his ears perked, as if any of this is going to help him.

“Okay, then what’s Clarke like?” Bellamy challenges, his voice plagued with exasperation.

“Well, she’s smart. She likes smart things,” Jasper says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Art, museums. The stuff you actually learn about in class.”

“Oh, Bellamy’s a nerd, too!” Octavia pipes in with an excited clap. “That’ll work.”

Another glare sent his sister’s way that does close to nothing before Bellamy shifts his attention back to Jasper. “So, what? I take her to a museum or something?”

“Well, you’ve got to get her to say yes to that first.” Jasper tucks his hands into his pockets. “I’ll say some nice things. You’ve got great hair, you’re a great friend to me, a great person to be around, probably really great in bed if we listen to what the girls say–”

Bellamy scrunches up his nose in disgust as Octavia’s face twists into a horrific stare. “We get it Jasper. I’m great, and you’ll tell Clarke that. But what do I do?”

Jasper seems to take some serious thought to this. He slumps against the gate, peering up at the sky as if it stores all its greatest answers. Bellamy lifts an eyebrow to Octavia, silently telling her _Are-You-Serious_ without having to open his mouth. Octavia brushes him off with a little wave, turning back to Jasper as if she’s placed her heart and soul into his wisdom.

Bellamy wants to give Jasper the benefit of the doubt, but all of this is spiraling into much more than it should be. He was just supposed to be talking to Clarke for a while, get her to like him and date for a couple of weeks and then dump her. It was so simple, the only complicated element being his morals, and now Octavia is taking this to a whole other level of absurdity. Bringing more people into this than absolutely necessary is going to land both of them in deeper shit.

“Oh, you guys said you were working on a project!” The thought must have just occurred to Jasper, because he looks like he just exclaimed ‘ _Eurika_ ’. “Be the one to start things up. She’ll love the initiative.”

“Our project isn’t due for nearly two months,” Bellamy says. “It’ll seem like–”

“Like you’re into her, which you are.” Octavia insists. “So start acting like it, big brother.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but soon realizes there would be no point in that. Bellamy’s agreed to this plan, and Octavia’s already invested. He should start acting like he’s on the same level as her.

* * *

Bellamy catches Clarke after the final bell on Friday, shoveling her books from her locker into her bag. The fluorescent lights shine a dim ray on her blonde hair, highlighting her porcelain skin. It’s a peaceful expression written across her face, her mind elsewhere, probably looking forward to the calmness of the weekend. Her features relaxed, she doesn’t even notice Bellamy as he creeps up beside her.

Guilt sets in at the oddest times. There’s a fuel that Bellamy has, a promise to his sister and her plan that urges him to talk to Clarke every day, that encourages him to approach her at this very moment. But Clarke, for all of her intelligence, is so unsuspecting of everything that Octavia – and he, himself – have in store.

But then, Atom whisks by the hall. He calls out Clarke’s name, waving goodbye before he heads out the front doors. Bellamy watches with narrowed eyes as he goes, before shifting his gaze to Clarke. She offers him a polite wave as a goodbye, and the guilt subsides. He’s doing this for his sister. And if Atom or Clarke were decent people, he wouldn’t have to be doing this.

Bellamy leans against the locker beside hers. Clarke doesn’t see him. She finishes up packing her bag, and then closes her locker. Her eyes drift over to Bellamy, before they jolt open in shock. She gasps, staggering back and nearly losing her footing.

He lunges forward on instinct, placing his hand on the small of her back to steady her. “Sorry to startle you, princess. I just wanted to say hi.”

She stares up at him, those blue eyes innocent and unsuspecting. His dark eyes stare right back, a slow smirk creeping up onto his lips. Clarke blinks, returning to reality. She pushes herself off of him, brushing off her clothes as if his grasp has tainted him.

“Sure you did,” Clarke snaps. She secures her bag over her shoulder, eyes narrowing. “What is up with you?”

“It’s like you want me to ignore you,” Bellamy teases, a notorious amusement to his features. “Wouldn’t you miss me?”

“Like a bullet in the brain.”

Bellamy actually laughs at that. Clarke doesn’t seem to find her own joke funny, but Bellamy sure does. He decides to back off, putting his hands up in mock defense. He’s supposed to be getting Clarke to like him here, not think of him as more than an ass than he already is.

“Listen, I’m sorry, okay?” Bellamy tries to keep his tone lighthearted, his arms dropping back down to his side. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over this weekend. To work on our project.”

Clarke furrows her eyebrows together. “It’s not due for, like, two months.”

“I thought you wanted a good grade on this. It’s best if we start early.”

She chews on her bottom lip, eyeing Bellamy skeptically. He’s not sure what she thinks he’s doing; trying to sleep with her or actually get a good grade. Bellamy can’t even blame her for being suspicious, she has every reason to be. Granted, Clarke has no idea as to what he’s actually up to. And that seems to bother her the most.

“Fine,” Clarke settles on. “But you’re coming to my house.”

“What’s wrong with mine?” Bellamy says defensively.

“It’s nothing about your house. It’s about who lives there.”

_Octavia_. Alright, he should have suspected that. Bellamy definitely doesn’t want Octavia lingering around anywhere. It’s just asking for disaster. “Fine. Send me the address.”

“It’s–”

“Text it to me. I’ll give you my number,” Bellamy suggests. Clarke appears surprised, but doesn’t protest as he lists off the digits. “I’ll be there around noon on Saturday. Sound good?”

Clarke merely nods, straightening her posture as she stares at him. She looks like she wants to say something, but no words leave her lips. She glances over him, trying to piece him together while Bellamy just stands there and lets the wheels work around in her head. It’s comical to say the least, but also really fucking confusing.

“Saturday works,” she finally says. “But we’re just working on this project. Right?”

Bellamy shoves his hands in his pockets, suddenly becoming a little sheepish. She’s onto him, somewhat. “Well, I was thinking we could get food–”

“No,” Clarke interrupts. “No food, no dates, no sex–”

“Whoa,” Bellamy interjects. “Dates? _Sex_? Why the fuck would you think that?”

“You’ve been acting weird all week,” Clarke points out, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly. “And when Jasper came to me–” _Fucking Jasper_. “It made sense. I’m not interested in being your next fucktoy.”

“I never said that’s what I wanted from you.” Bellamy insists, creeping closer to her. “If I wanted to fuck, I’d just say that, princess.”

Clarke quiets, if only for a moment as a scowl runs over her face. “Well good, because I’m not that type of girl.”

Bellamy wants to scowl that she is, that that’s the only reason that he’s giving her the time of day. That if she hadn’t run off with Atom, had meaningless sex with him just to get back at Octavia for their _fucked up_ feud, that he wouldn’t even be sparring a second glance at her. And he almost says it, if not for the way she looks at him.

The appearance of innocence has always looked so good on her. The softness of her features, the way that she’s not even defensive, just certain about herself and all that she encompasses. If Octavia hadn’t been whispering in his ear all these years, he may have just believed Clarke’s façade. In fact, if Octavia hadn’t been around at all, he may just be in an entirely different position with Clarke Griffin.

“No, you’re not.” Bellamy says, and he means it. He straightens, allowing for a minimal amount of distance between them. “And I know that. I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not making me uncomfortable.” Clarke states simply, tipping her chin upwards. “I’m saying this is never going to be more.” She sighs in deeply to collect herself, then exhales slowly as Bellamy just looks on at her poised stature. “Whatever you have in mind, forget about it, Bellamy.”

The guilt returns in full force. His features soften. Clearly, his attitude before isn’t working for her or for him. She thinks he’s rude and a whore, and he’s coming off exactly like that. While hurting the princess’ feelings has never been a qualm for Bellamy, it’s not working to either of their advantage. And he can’t help the part of him that feels bad for making her feel that way, especially when she looks up at him with such a gentle stare.

Bellamy blinks, trying to rid the positive items about Clarke from his head. This is no time for that shit, not when he has his sister to think about.

“I’m going to make it up to you,” Bellamy starts.

Clarke shakes her head. “I don’t need you to–”

“I’ll be the best damn partner you could ever ask for. And I’ll bring lunch.”

“I just said no–”

“No food, right. So you want to starve?”

“I can eat before–”

“I’m going to bring food anyways, so it’s up to you if you want to waste my money or not.” Bellamy says it with a smile, something small and unthreatening. He notes when Clarke tries to suppress hers, and takes it as a cue to back up. Leave her in a good mood. “I’ll see you tomorrow, at noon, with food.”

Before she can protest, Bellamy swivels around and walks in the opposite direction. He’s already running through ideas in his mind, trying to guess what her favorite food could be. He’ll just ask Jasper.

* * *

Jasper informs Bellamy of Clarke’s inclination towards home-cooked meals, _of fucking course._ She’s grown up in a home resembling a palace on the nicest part of Arkadia, and most likely has a slew of maids running through it. But he supposes food is the key to the heart, and he’s practically been raising his sister since she was young, so he knows a couple of recipes that should be doable. Which is why he wakes up early on Saturday morning to start preparing.

He’s not completely lost; left the chicken to marinate for a bit, throws the pasta is some boiling water and even prepares some greenery. Clarke must be used to five course meals, so he pops some garlic bread in the oven as an appetizer and purchases chocolate strawberries from the store for dessert. It’s not that Bellamy wants to make a good impression, it’s that he has to. Clarke is hard to please, and his desire to appease her stems from his ultimate goal; which is to take her down.

Bellamy tries not to think about it too much, though. The guilt that plagues his chest is hard to ignore when his mind reminds him what this is all for, so he busies himself with the food for the morning. An hour before noon, his phone chimes, with a text from Clarke herself, her address laid out plainly for him.

“What’s with the cheesy grin?” Octavia asks, striding into the kitchen. Bellamy hadn’t realized he was smiling down at his phone, preoccupied with finding out something quirky to reply. She glances at the food. “Don’t tell me all of this is for that skank.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes, placing his phone down. The counter is full of the food he’s now attempting to package to keep fresh. Pasta stored in two containers with greens separate in another. Chicken stored in one larger container and strawberries still wrapped in their pre-package. He’s having trouble with the garlic bread, but he’s thinking that saranwrap would be the best option.

Glancing down at the counter, it is a lot of food. Octavia’s looking at him bewildered, like this may be a little more effort than necessary to get what he wants from Clarke. The most he’s ever done for a girl is buy her takeout after they’ve fucked in his car, and he’s not even intending to sleep with Clarke – at least, not today. It’s an understatement to say this is overkill, Bellamy knows, but the last thing he needs before he heads over to Clarke’s is a lecture from his sister.

“I’m just trying to make sure this works,” Bellamy says nonchalantly. “Jasper said she likes home-cooked meals.”

Octavia swings her legs over the barstool, reaching for a slice of garlic bread. Bellamy swats her hand away, and she jerks back with a glare. “Calm down, Casanova. Do I have to remind you that all of this is supposed to be fake?”

“You don’t have to remind me,” Bellamy insists. “I know exactly what this is.”

“You better, big brother.” Octavia narrows his eyes. “Don’t let that stupid heart of yours get in the way.”

Bellamy chooses to ignore his sister, grabbing the plate of garlic bread and wrapping it in saranwrap. He can feel Octavia’s prying eyes, knows that she’s hyperaware that he didn’t respond to her statement. Dodging her line of sight, Bellamy starts packing up all the food items into a bag, carefully stacking them on top of one another.

He’ll tell himself it’s because he doesn’t have to grace her with an answer to know what he has to do. He’ll tell himself that the tightening in his chest is from slaving away in this kitchen all day, not because of a blonde girl with blue eyes that he has to trick into dating him. He’ll tell himself he can do this, pretend to be into someone who he knows, if the world was different, could turn into something else entirely.

This stupid heart of his has a main priority. As always, his sister. Octavia comes first, in all his endeavors and this is no different. Clarke Griffin is just another girl, someone he’ll forget about once he graduates from Arkadia High. She screwed over his sister, and now he intends to screw with her. That’s how this has to be; black and white.

* * *

Bellamy unpacks the food from the large paper bag, carefully laying them across the floor of Clarke’s bedroom. He’s quite preoccupied with making sure everything was sealed correctly so that he doesn’t stain the floorboards, before he continues to take out more of the containers. He doesn’t even realize that Clarke’s staring at him with eyes insanely wide, a bewildered expression overtaking his features.

Clarke reaches out to grab his wrist just as he sets down the chocolate covered strawberries. “Bellamy Blake, I’m going to kill you.”

Her grip on his wrist is soft, but firm, her eyes locked on him intently. Bellamy stares back, trying not to glance at the mountains of food that is most definitely overkill. His eyes flick up to meet Clarke’s, a teasing smile resting on his features. She must have some sense of what he’s trying to do now, or at least the sugarcoated version of it.

“What’s wrong, princess?” Bellamy replies smoothly. “You don’t like chicken?”

She squints at him, like she’s trying to figure him out. Bellamy would wish her good luck, cause it’s a hard case to crack, but he also wouldn’t want her to come to that realization so quick. His stomach churns at the thought of her figuring out what this really is, he doesn’t even want to think about when it’s actually time for it to come to that.

A large part of him hopes that she won’t fall for him. All she has to do, really, is like him enough to go out with him and be his date to Homecoming. Falling in love isn’t on his radar, and he sincerely hopes it isn’t on hers. His only goal here is the humiliation, there’s no need for a heartbreak on his hands.

Clarke loosens her grip on his wrist, hand dropping to her side. She’s sitting cross-legged on her carpet, just inches away from where Bellamy’s crouched down. Her laptop is perched in front of her, a Google Doc opened, blank and ready to be worked on. She glances at the laptop, and then back at Bellamy, as if some piece of the puzzle is right out in front of her, but so entirely out of reach.

“Jasper’s been talking to me about you.” Clarke states plainly. “But you already know that.”

“I didn’t ask him to say anything,” Bellamy admits truthfully. “He offered.”

“Why would he offer? Why would he think you need him to say anything?” Clarke accuses, venom etched onto her tone. “Nothing is going to change my mind about you, Bellamy. I don’t know why yours has changed about me.”

Bellamy tilts his head to the side, the ends of his lips tipping up into smile. Staring at Clarke, the simplicity he once saw is gone. He’s always known she was smart, probably smarter than him – not that he’d ever admit it, but there’s always been this façade of a popular girl masked over her. The cheerleading uniform, dolled up hair, poignant bitch face and snarky remarks. She’s always been able to match his energy when it comes to their bickering, but other than that, there’s not much he knows about Clarke Griffin.

Sitting in her bedroom paints a different story. It’s big, just as he expected it to be. She has a whole corner for her art supplies and easel, something he didn’t know she even did. And now, even as she pesters him for information that she’s clearly desperate for, she peers at him with a such a sincerity that he’s never seen in her eyes. It makes his heart thump,

He shakes his head, thrown by the accelerated beat of his heart. Clarke peers at him, her confusion growing. He stands to his feet, trying to regain some footing, and finds himself walking over to the corner with her art supplies. Perched on the easel is a painting, half finished, a swirl of deep reds and pinks overtaking the page.

“Hey,” Clarke stands, rushing after him. “What are you doing?”

Bellamy stares at the painting, making out the outline of a body, natural skin colors replaced with those reds and pinks as shades. “I didn’t know you painted.”

“You don’t know much about me,” Clarke snaps. “Which is why I have no clue why you’re doing all this.”

He glances over his shoulder, noting how her confusion has morphed into something more desperate. A plea, an inability to sort all this out when she’s so used to piecing together things easily. Bellamy turns, body facing hers now, and she straightens. Clarke stares up at him, that wave of confidence washing over her.

“What if I want to know more about you?” Bellamy challenges.

“Why?” Clarke presses, the word coming out more of a breath. “Your sister despises me.”

“She does,” Bellamy confirms with a curt nod. “Doesn’t mean I have to.”

“You have for the past decade.”

Bellamy thinks back to the past decade – more so. It’s been over twelve years since Clarke and Octavia met in kindergarten, their feud festering into a full on battle zone for over half of their lives. He’s always stood by, taken Octavia’s side, because that’s what a brother does. And yeah, sometimes Clarke was in the wrong, but sometimes Octavia was. But Bellamy always remained planted on the side of his sister.

It’s exactly where he stands now. Nothing is changed. As he stares down at Clarke, that plague of guilt returns. She doesn’t know that nothing’s changed, that at the end of the day, he’s a brother before he’s anything else.

“I thought about what you said, at Jasper’s party.” Bellamy starts. This all did start at that party, he supposes. “About me being wrapped around my sister’s finger. And I realized I hadn’t had my own opinion of you since we met.”

“You’ve realized that twelve years later?” Clarke narrows her eyes, planting her hands on her hips cutely.

A small, genuine smile is brought to Bellamy’s lips. “Better late than never.”

Clarke eyes glance over him, somewhat convinced, but all the more skeptical. She crosses her arms over her chest. “So, what’s your _own_ opinion of me now, then?”

In all honestly, Bellamy has no clue. The only insight he garners on Clarke are from Octavia, and it’s never anything good. Especially after this whole Atom debacle which makes him physically nauseated. Based on that, it’s definitely not something Clarke wants to hear. And he may be an ass, but he’s not that much of one.

Bellamy decides to forget about his sister, and Atom and anyone who has ever said anything to him about Clarke Griffin. He thinks back to times when it was just the two of them, their limited interactions always sheltered with an underlying hatred, thanks to his sister. But he thinks about talking to her; how she is so sure of herself, in everything that she does. Her intelligence doesn’t just include academia, but extends into passion. Her eyes light up when she talks about something she’s invested in, like when she was rambling about their project in history class this week. Clarke Griffin knows she’s Clarke Griffin, and she doesn’t apologize for it.

He stares at her, his thoughts of Clarke consuming his heat and tickling up his spine. Clarke looks up at him, waiting for an explanation. But instead of demanding, her eyes are soft, not so much eager to hear what he has to say, but anticipating. Bellamy wonders if she’s thinking about what her opinion is on him, if she even has one outside of him being Octavia’s brother. He can’t blame her, not when that’s really all he sees himself as sometimes.

“I think you’re someone I want to get to know.” Bellamy confesses. Clarke’s shoulders slump, clearly not satisfied with that answer. But he’s not done. “You can actually match my intelligence in our history class, you don’t take my shit or my sister’s for that matter. I kind of want to figure you out.”

“You want a puzzle to decode?” Clarke sighs in exasperation. “What happens when you don’t like what you find?”

Bellamy steps towards Clarke, drawn to those words. “Why wouldn’t I like what I find?”

They’re too close now. Clarke’s breath glides along his chin as she stares up at him. He tries to control his own breathing, which becomes increasingly difficult with the rapid beat of his heart. There’s a glint in her eye, something unknown, a purgatory between certainty and a lapse of judgement. He realizes then, there’s a lot to Clarke Griffin that he truly doesn’t know. And outside of all of this, he really wants to uncover what it is about her that makes him like this.

His eyes flee to behind Clarke, on the food sprawled across her floor. The unfinished painting behind him sends a sting along his spine. Clarke, standing before him, makes his heart beat irregularly. This room stints them, holding them in place. He doesn’t know what he can get done in this bedroom, but is certain that he doesn’t want to find out.

“One date,” Bellamy asks her, his voice surprisingly soft. He holds up his index finger to demonstrate. “Give me one chance to get to know you. The real you. Not what my sister or your friends say about you. _You_.”

“What makes you think I would want that?” Clarke demands to know.

“Because you’re the same. Your only opinions of me are what other people say.” Bellamy points out. “Raven, Bree, Atom. Let me show you who I am.”

This lie, this plan, is already churning his insides. But the words flow from his mouth so seamlessly, so natural. And he finds himself pining, fighting for a chance to show her who he is beyond the scale of their high school constraints. He supposes, if Octavia’s plan is to work, it has to feel real for him, too.

Clarke shifts her weight from one foot to the other, teeth grazing her lower lip. Her eyes lock with his, and she sighs deeply. “Okay. One date.”

A grin stretches across Bellamy’s face, bringing a small smile to hers. He fears any time will give her a chance to change her mind, so he strides over to the array of food sprawled across her floor and starts packing it up into the bag. Clarke swirls around to face him, watching as he kneels down on the floor, confusion sprawled across her face.

Bellamy lifts his head up as he places the chocolate covered strawberries into the bag. “Grab your canvas and supplies. I have an idea.”

* * *

The parks on this side of Arkadia are full of vast plains and tall trees. It’s the beginning of fall, and the leaves are turning shades of oranges and reds, contrasting against the colors on Clarke’s canvas. Bellamy finishes off the last piece of garlic bread, before leaning back on his palms, marveling at Clarke’s work. She’s outlined the curves of the woman in pink, while the skin is matted in an array of deep red paints.

“You’re really good at that,” Bellamy compliments. “Is it for your Art class?”

“No, I’m not in Art,” Clarke admits with a sigh. “It’s just for me.”

Bellamy re-adjusts himself, laying on his stomach to mirror Clarke and peer at her work. She glances at him out of the corner of her eye as their shoulders rub together, but says nothing, focusing on the intricate lines of her painting. He stares back at her, her hair cascading down one side of her head just so she can have it out of the way as she paints. Her eyes dance across the canvas with such a focus and precision.

“Just for you,” Bellamy repeats. “You ever think about submitting it somewhere?”

Clarke snorts, not taking her eyes off the painting. “What’s the point? It’s just a hobby.”

“I think someone would really like to see it,” Bellamy shrugs. He nudges her playfully, “No use keeping all your talents to yourself.”

Clarke giggles, shaking her head in disbelief. She lifts her head up to look at Bellamy, a smile appearing on her lips. “Can you pass me a strawberry?”

“You’re not full from the five course meal I fed you?”

“Nope. Definitely need a chocolate covered strawberry.”

Bellamy smiles, reaching behind him to pull out the package of chocolate covered strawberries. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Clarke watching him. He tries not to think too much of it as he rips open the plastic, sliding the array of strawberries out of their packaging.

The autumn air whisks by them, gliding through Bellamy’s hair. It’s not too cold just yet, as it’s only the beginning of September. He’s perfectly content with his jeans and varsity jacket, and glances at Clarke to ensure she’s alright. She’s sporting jeans as well, a washed blue compared to his black ones, but she’s only in a t-shirt. The goosebumps that litter her skin are hard to ignore.

He sets the strawberries aside for a moment, peeling off his jacket. Clarke scrunches up her nose as he drapes it over her shoulders without warning. Bellamy can’t help but smirk, amused at the expression that takes over her features. He reaches back for the chocolate covered strawberries.

“I didn’t say I was cold,” Clarke bites out.

“You didn’t have to,” Bellamy shrugs.

Clarke pauses, fingers tracing the hem of his varsity jacket. “Finn said that Coach Kane is bringing scouts to look at you.”

Bellamy tenses with the chocolate covered strawberries in his lap. He would love to curse Finn out right now, that rookie has no clue where his place is. The last thing he wants is the added pressure of people knowing he’s being watched by scouts. Having that knowledge locked in his mind is already frightening enough.

“Yeah,” Bellamy says. “I guess.”

“You guess?” Clarke quirks a brow. “Scouts are a big deal. You could get a scholarship to somewhere really great.”

“I only want to go to Arkadia U,” Bellamy states plainly. “And I know I can impress that scout with my eyes closed.”

Clarke narrows her eyes. “Arkadia U?”

“Something wrong with Arkadia U?”

Clarke perches herself on the back of her heels, leveling her eyes with Bellamy. “Arkadia U is _fine_. But its football program isn’t great. In fact, all of its programs are pretty subpar. I figured with your grades, you’d go somewhere far from this town.”

Bellamy knows this. Hence why he doesn’t talk much about it. He’s not being arrogant thinking that he can get into anywhere he wants, he’s worked hard and he plays hard. There’s programs from all over the country that have already reached out to him, but he always deletes the email in case Octavia or his mother finds it.

“I have no intention of leaving my family,” Bellamy finds himself saying.

Clarke softens, peering at him with kind eyes. He’s not sure why he said that. He hasn’t said it aloud to anyone, not even Octavia. She’d be a mess without him, more so than she already is. She doesn’t even know how to boil pasta, and it’s not like their mother is around to teach her. Leaving her would be catastrophic, and it’s not something he will be pursuing.

“Octavia seems to shape your view of the world.” Clarke says carefully.

The last thing Bellamy wants to do is have the conversation turn to this. He’s actually having a pretty nice time with Clarke. He’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to be, but he is. Originally, he thought spending time with her would be a chore, but he’s been enjoying himself. That scares him a little more, but he chooses to shove that out of his mind for now.

Bellamy leans forward, plastering a cheesy smile on my face. “Don’t take this the wrong way, princess, but I do not want to spend the rest of this date talking about my sister.”

Clarke tilts her head to the side, sighing deeply. A smile lifts onto her face, one that exudes relief. Octavia seems to be a point of stress for the both of them. Eliminating her from this – for now – should be a step in the right direction.

“The scouts are going to love you,” Clarke says. “I’ve seen you play.”

“You’re saying you watch me on the field?” Bellamy smirks, leaning in a little closer.

“I’m literally a cheerleader. It’s my job.”

“Ah, you could look at anyone. And you chose me.”

She rolls her eyes, but the smile on her face is still present. Her cheek presses against her shoulder, scanning over him. This time, it doesn’t appear like she’s trying to figure him out. She stares at him like he stares at her, an admiration that they try incessantly to suppress but that always manages to shine through.

“You have a big head,” Clarke observes. “You know that?”

“In the literal or metaphorical sense?” Bellamy teases.

“Both. But more so in the You’re-A-Dick way.”

Bellamy gasps dramatically, a grin stretching across Clarke’s face. He almost breaks character, seeing her smile so wide and bright. But he manages, swallows down the lump in his throat and carries on, just in hopes that he can keep that smile on her face.

“Me? I’m the most down to Earth person on this planet.” Bellamy gapes.

“Down to Earth, huh?” Clarke raises her eyebrows. “In what way?”

“I made you this five course meal,” Bellamy points out. “Out of the kindness of my heart.”

“I do like a good home-cooked meal,” Clarke agrees with a begrudging nod.

“So I’ve heard.”

Another gust of wind whisks through the park, flying through Clarke’s hair. It sprawls over her face, flailing over her mouth. Bellamy chuckles, bringing his hand up to comb the hair from her mouth. She scrunches her face up as he brushes her hair to either sides of her face, fingers brushing against the softness of his skin.

Free of hair, Clarke’s eyes flutter open to meet his. The back of his knuckles ghost lightly against her cheek, caught up in the intimacy of the two of them. Bellamy’s not new to being close to a girl, in fact, he’s far from it. But this is something different entirely, making his heart palpitate and throat go dry. He’s pretty sure this is just far too natural for what’s supposed to be a fake scenario.

Silence looms over them as the gusts of wind quiets. Clarke hugs his varsity jacket closer to her, shielding her from the tiny spurts of cold air. Bellamy’s hand is still on her cheek, and he’s suddenly not sure if she’s cold because of the autumn air or if the chills are from his touch. His thumb rubs against her cheek, an attempt to warm her, one that he shouldn’t be making.

“Bellamy,” Clarke’s voice is so quiet, he almost doesn’t hear it. “I still don’t know what my opinion of you is.”

The softest smile graces Bellamy’s lips. His heart shouldn’t be fluttering. But he’s so close, and he has to think of his goddamn sister, of why he’s doing this. He has to remind himself of everything that Clarke is, according to Octavia. That’s the only way he can follow through with this, knowing what the end is going to be. His goal may be to destroy Clarke Griffin, but he may just end up wrecking both of them in the process.

“That’s okay,” Bellamy tells her. “I have time to let you think about it.”

“You have time?” Clarke teases. His hand is still on her cheek, there’s no reason for it to be there. Why is his hand still on her cheek, how did he get so close to her? He can feel her breath against his lips, overtaking the chill in the air. “Why are you so dedicated, Blake?”

Bellamy can’t tell her _why_. His heart is thumping erratically now, the guilt has set in, and he shouldn’t be doing this. Morality typically isn’t an issue for Bellamy. He has a tendency to tell girls exactly what he wants from them, whether it’s sex or something else and if they want something else, he lets them know that he isn’t the right guy for them. It’s up to them to choose if they want to continue pursuing him or not.

But Clarke knows nothing. Bellamy’s withholding that and so much more. He stares at Clarke, his hand seemingly cemented on the softness of her cheek, eyes melting into the blue of hers, and the guilt consumes him. His chest could explode right there and then, in fact it feels like it’ll do just that.

His hand drops from her cheek, all too suddenly. Clarke draws back slightly as Bellamy picks one strawberry out of the assorted ones in his lap. His fingers pinch the stem, but he can still feel her cheek on his skin. Peering back up at Clarke, her eyebrows furrow together, a slight pout on her lips. She must think somethings wrong, and he can’t let her think like that. That’s not helping either of them.

“Strawberry?” Bellamy’s smirk is twitchy and out of place.

If Clarke notices, she chooses not to say anything. She nods, forces a smile of her own. He expects her to take it from him, but instead she leans forward, closing her lips around the chocolate covered strawberry and the tip of his fingers. Bellamy feels the blood rush to his lower region almost instantly, shifting his legs around so Clarke doesn’t get a full view of his half-hard dick in his pants.

The warmth of her saliva slicks around his fingers. Her mouth travels down just slightly to bite at the root of the stem, taking the strawberry into her mouth. Bellamy is mesmerized by the sight, watching as she draws back, delicately chewing the strawberry while her eyes lock with his. She swipes off the remnants of the chocolate at the corner of her mouth with her finger, slow and sultry.

Bellamy would memorize this moment if he could. But he can’t. He _has to_ let her words soak in; _Why are you so dedicated, Blake?_ And he has to remind himself. His sister sobbing on his lap, the image of her finding Atom and Clarke. It’s nauseating, and overwhelming sense of obligation plagues his chest, but he surges forward and kisses her.

She tastes like strawberries. The chocolate isn’t overpowering, but the scent of strawberries compliment the softness of her lips. Every part about her is soft, Bellamy realizes, with his mouth on hers. It’s a slow, exploratory kiss, one a lot more intimate than ones he’s used to sharing. But when Clarke’s surprise subsides, and her mouth moves against his, it’s a height he hasn’t reached before.

Bellamy’s hand finds her cheek again, pulling her closer. He relishes in every soft part about her, from her hair to her cheek to her lips. He allows the guilt to fade away, his selfishness creeping in as his mouth deepens against hers. Clarke’s tongue slips into his mouth, and he has to restrain himself from letting out a heavenly moan.

He learns that day that his morality is shit and Clarke is an excellent kisser.

* * *

Octavia is waiting for him, perched on the staircase when he walks through the door. Arms crossed over her chest and eyes narrowed, “Did you get any real work done or did you waste time learning about useless people from a million years ago?”

Bellamy debates lying to Octavia. Telling her nothing happened between him and Clarke, that all they did was work on their assignment. He itches to end it now, tell his sister that he doesn’t think he could get through to Clarke. In fact, he almost does just that, opening his mouth to end this before it spirals into something uncontrollable, or festers into the explosion he knows is just around the corner.

Octavia takes a step down the staircase, analyzing him. She squints, tilting her head to the side. “Where’s your varsity jacket?”

He nearly curses himself. Clarke had nearly been consumed by that large jacket of his, and it hadn’t even crossed his mind to ask for it back. Before he can come up with some explanation, Octavia’s eyes widen, and a gasp leaves her lips.

“You slept with her?” Octavia shrieks.

“No, no!” Bellamy confesses. “I took her on a picnic. We were outside, she was cold.”

“You should have let that whore freeze.”

“That wouldn’t make me look very good, now would it?”

Octavia rolls her eyes, but doesn’t say anything in response. She tilts her head to the side, biting down on her lip, waiting for more details. Bellamy’s still not sure what to tell her, so he just stares back, aiming for her to break the silence with a whine or a demand to know more. But it doesn’t come.

His sister offers a small smile, something timid and uncharacteristic of her. It almost brings him to last weekend, having her curled up on his lap after sobbing her eyes out, begging for his help. Octavia takes a step towards him, and any animosity towards this situation just fades away. He’s doing this for his sister, like he does everything else for her.

“I don’t say how much I appreciate you enough,” Octavia admits. “But I really haven’t felt like myself since this whole breakup with Atom. And you’ve jumped through lengths to help me.”

“I’m your brother,” Bellamy has to remind himself, too. “That’s what I do.”

“Well, with you being my brother,” Octavia starts, a bit of a hesitant tone in her voice. “I know how you really are. How you act like a dick, but you really aren’t.” Bellamy huffs, but she continues. “Nothing _real_ is happening between you and Clarke, right?”

Bellamy takes a deep breath, exhaling shakily. His little sister peers up at him, eyes wide and hopeful for the answer she wants. He looks down at her with a tight smile. “Oh, please, Octavia. All of this is going according to plan.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke’s waiting for him at his locker. She stands there, staring aimlessly at the classmates that whiz by her, obviously looking for Bellamy. From the other side of the hall, she appears so small; her skirt gracing just above the mid of her thigh, pink camisole hugging her torso, blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. That familiar pang returns to Bellamy’s chest, but before he can do anything about it, Clarke catches his eye.

She smiles sweetly, and Bellamy has no choice but to grin back. He notes the way Clarke scans the halls, somewhat nervously, undoubtedly trying to spot Octavia. His sister scurried off the minute they entered the doors, thankfully, because he certainly didn’t want her input on All-Things-Clarke-Griffin this early in the morning. He waltzes over to his locker, as Clarke straightens.

“Hey,” Clarke greets him. She extends out her hand, and he notices his varsity jersey folded neatly in her grasp. “I think this belongs to you.”

Bellamy glances down at the varsity jacket in her grasp, and shrugs. “It looks better on you.”

“This is your _varsity jacket_ ,” Clarke emphasizes, like he doesn’t know. “Coach Kane is going to kick your ass if you don’t have it with you.”

“I’ll ask for it back when I need it,” Bellamy smirks, stepping forward to undo the combination on his locker. Clarke angles her body towards him, peering at him with uncertainty. He chuckles lowly, “Clarke, seriously. I trust you not to rip it to shreds.”

“You’re not supposed to give these jackets to anybody.”

“Well, you’re not just anybody.”

The flush of red that appears on Clarke’s cheeks ignite a glow in Bellamy’s heart. In all honesty, he hadn’t expected her to have such an effect on him, although he suspects most of it is primarily guilt. In another life, he and Clarke could be friends, possibly more. But in this life, he has to look at her for what she is; Octavia’s mortal enemy, and someone he could never truly have feelings for. He’d never feel anything towards someone so hellbent on being cruel to his sister.

But sometimes, when Bellamy looks at her, he has a tendency to forget. There’s a bashfulness in her expression, an affection in her eyes, a confidence that draws him to her. In a way, he’s always been drawn to Clarke. Whether that’s because of her feud with Octavia or her habit of getting on his nerves in the middle of class. Like there’s an Octavia and Clarke, there’s a Bellamy and Clarke, a dynamic that’s been in the making over a decade.

Clarke feels a shift, though. He made sure she did, after all. Bellamy hadn’t expected her to become akin to him so quickly, but he supposes that’s exactly what he wanted. The shift in their dynamic, in the Bellamy and Clarke that they once were. This is everything going according to plan. And that’s a good thing.

“Since when do you give girls your varsity jacket?” Clarke challenges.

Of course, nothing is ever that simple with Clarke Griffin. An amused smile appears on Bellamy’s face. She questions everything when it comes to him, and while he can’t blame her, he also can’t find how cute he finds it.

“I don’t,” Bellamy states simply. He retrieves his needed books from his locker, and shuts it closed, leaning against the lockers to peer at Clarke. “It’s just you.”

“Just me?” Clarke quirks up her eyebrow. “Why me?”

“I thought I already made this clear, Clarke. On our date.”

“You did, but that doesn’t change the fact that you fucked all my friends and somehow, are now making your way to me.”

Bellamy winces. He has to give it to her, that is a big hump to get over. He would understand why Clarke wouldn’t want to be with a guy who slept with literally every single one of her friends. Even if it was nothing serious, even if _this_ is supposed to be nothing serious, he has to give Clarke the appearance that everything with her is. And that’s a little difficult with his past.

“I didn’t give your friends my varsity jacket. Nor do I plan to.” Bellamy explains. Clarke’s teeth graze her lower lip, and he steps forward slightly. “Clarke, I like you. And I’d really like to keep seeing you.”

Clarke looks up at him, those big doe-eyes reminding him of that oh so painful pang in his chest. He peers down at her, trying to keep a level expression, one that doesn’t crumble behind his shitty morality. The mask of adoration and honesty must appeal to Clarke, because she breaks out into a shy smile, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

She ducks her head, glancing around at their classmates occupying the halls. Bellamy takes a scan around the hallway, too, luckily noting no notable figures. He knows this eventually has to go public in order for Octavia’s plan to work, but it would be ideal for them to cement whatever this is before that happens. If there’s one thing he knows about his peers, it’s that they’re all fucking nosy. It’s not like he and Clarke are under the radar either, with their separate popularities always causing them to be the center of attention.

A deep sigh escapes Clarke’s lips, snapping Bellamy’s attention back to her. Her eyebrows furrow together decisively, and she swivels around, her back flattening against the lockers. Bellamy peers her, trying to read her mind, already mentally calculating what he needs to do to assuage her worries. A lot of this plan is mentally taxing for him, and the mental gymnastics he’s currently in the midst of performing are of no help.

“You like me.” Clarke repeats slowly. She presses her cheek against the lockers to peer at him. “Does your sister know that?”

“Is everything an interrogation with you?” Bellamy accuses. She raises her eyebrows at him, urging him to just shut up and answer the question. He sighs, “No, she doesn’t.”

Clarke nods slowly, returning her gaze to the slew of peers rummaging through the halls. She clutches his varsity jacket a little closer to her, and he can tell her mind is running a mile a minute. Telling her why everything about this is so inexplicably wrong, that she could not possibly start seeing Bellamy Blake when Octavia despises her, when she literally slept with his sister’s boyfriend.

Granted, Clarke doesn’t think he knows about that. And by whatever agreement that trio of her, Octavia and Atom have come to, seems to be keeping that under wraps from the general public. He wonders if she thinks similarly to Octavia. Homecoming is coming up, and being associated with him will undoubtedly give her the edge she needs to win. He kind of feels better about this whole thing if that’s the case. If she’s using him like he’s using her.

But something unprecedented tells him that just isn’t the case. Although he desperately wishes it was, because at least that wouldn’t make him the most horrible person in the world.

“I still haven’t solidified my opinion on you just yet.” Clarke concludes.

Bellamy scoffs, amusement lacing his tone, “You seemed to have a pretty good opinion of me when my tongue was down your throat.”

Clarke snaps her head towards him to glare, but he only smirks. She swivels her body towards him, her eyes narrowing sharply at him. “I told you before, Bellamy. I’m not that type of girl.”

“I never said you were,” Bellamy shrugs. He leans closer, a glimmer of amusement in his eye. “I’m saying you like me, and I like you. Let’s see where this goes.”

The bell rings above them, Clarke’s chin tilting upwards to the source of the sound. Bellamy follows her gaze, if not for his own viewing pleasure. Clarke notes this, glaring at him for mimicking her movements as a playful smile appears on his face. The little pout she does when she’s angry is cute, what can he say?

Clarke swings her backpack over her shoulder, unzipping the hood. Bellamy watches as she carefully places his varsity jacket inside, intent on not creasing or crumbling the fabric. Despite her haste, she takes the time to ensure its not wrinkled before zipping her backpack up and placing it back over her shoulder.

“I can’t keep this thing for long,” Clarke insists, lowering her voice to a whisper. “If my friends find it, they’ll kill me.”

“Why? Because they’re obsessed with me?” Bellamy muses.

“No. Well, Bree, maybe,” Clarke sighs deeply. She pauses, as if deciding whether or not elaborating would be a good idea. “Because they warned me about you.”

“Warned you about me?” Bellamy says offensively. “I was very clear, with all of them–”

“Exactly. Which is why they’re suspicious about what you want with me.” Clarke explains.

“How many times do I need to tell you that I like you, Clarke?” Bellamy runs his hand through his hair in exasperation. He hadn’t expected this many roadblocks. He reaches for her hand, and she lets him take it. “One date wasn’t enough to prove it to you, fine. Let me take you on another one.”

Clarke’s gaze drifts down to their joined hands. She peers around the hallway, trying to locate any prying eyes, jerking her hand away from him in the process. Bellamy’s shoulders slump in defeat as she takes a step away from him, putting what she thinks is much needed distance between them. She smoothens out her skirt, combing her fingers through her hair in order to sort herself out.

Bellamy straightens, crossing his arms over his chest. He may just be the slightest bit annoyed, but he’ll chalk this up to Clarke’s friends putting a roadblock in his sister’s plan. Not because he’s offended Clarke has a sour opinion of him because of his past. He knows who he is, and what his intentions are. Although they’re not the best, Clarke’s friends certainly don’t know that, and have no business budding their way into theirs.

“Dates with mountains of food aren’t enough, Bellamy.” Clarke insists, tilting her chin upward. “Maybe we should just leave this here–”

“I thought we were forming our own opinions of one another,” Bellamy insists, surging forward. Clarke averts her gaze from him, but lets him edge closer. “I know you felt something when we were together.”

Clarke lifts her head to look at him. Bellamy peers down at her with a sincere smile, and for whatever reason, his heart is beating a mile a minute. It’s because of all the pressure this plan is putting on him. Not because of Clarke staring at him like that. It’s anything else but that, is what he’ll tell himself.

“Or maybe I wrong,” Bellamy takes the leap to say it, nearly breathless when he does. “Maybe that kiss meant nothing to you, and it just meant everything to me. Is that it?”

She takes a shaky breath. “No. No, you’re not wrong.”

The second bell rings, and students empty in their classrooms. Clarke makes a move to step away from and dart to class, but he surges forward, catching her wrist gently in his grasp. With the hallway now empty, he pulls her closer to him, bringing her in for a frenzied kiss. He hadn’t expected to do that, but his movements were on autopilot, and he wasn’t opposed to the feeling of Clarke’s lips on his.

Her mouth melts against his, hand resting on his forearm as she relaxes into his hold. Kissing Clarke is an out of body experience, intimate and passionate without the sex that he’s used to. Her touch is enough to make his heart beat erratically, soaring through his chest as if consumed in ecstasy. His hand tightens on her wrist, if only to have her close to him for just a little longer. It’s selfish, and not what any of this is supposed to be. But here they are.

Clarke’s the one to finally pull away from him, blinking slowly, as if in some sort of daze. That adoration, the admiration that appears in her eyes sinks into his bones, rattles his morality once more. He’s doing this for all the wrong reasons, he reminds himself, and it’s so selfish of him to feel this good when he’s with her. Especially when this inevitably ends in an explosion, with her social life demolished and whatever was forged between them in that timespan burnt to ash.

Yet, it’s not like he can stop now. Bellamy made a promise to his sister, and never would he ever dream of letting her down. He just has to remind himself who Clarke really is, at her core. Although it makes his stomach churn, it’s just the reality of what this is. None of this is supposed to be real, and it won’t be. Not for him, at least.

“Don’t worry about what your friends think, or what my sister thinks. Who the hell cares?” Bellamy whispers, just inches away from her face. “How do you feel?”

Clarke stares at him for a moment, before the smallest of smiles appear on her face. It’s mischievous, more like the Clarke he’s grown to know. A wave of relief floods his chest, as she leans in and kisses his cheek, quick and soft.

“I’m still deciding.” Clarke teases, staggering backwards.

Bellamy lets her snake out of his grip, his hand dangling idly by her side. She swirls around, practically bounces off to class with a quip in her step that’s hard to ignore. He can’t stop that smile that spreads across his face, a glee that fills his chest. He’s got Clarke, at least for the most part. He feels a flutter deep in his stomach, as opposed to the victory he was expecting, but he decides to push that to the backburner for now. He’s on the right track.

All Bellamy has to do is settle the rifts caused by external factors. That, he can do. After all, he’s come this far.

* * *

Bellamy starts with Clarke’s friends. Roma, although she tends to linger around the high school in hopes of rediscovering her glory days, is nowhere in sight and he knows it wouldn’t look good to reach out and text her. So, he pulls Bree and Raven aside before they all huddle into the changeroom for cheerleading practice.

“You want us to give Clarke our blessing?” Raven squints, as if trying to make sense of all this. She glances at Bree, who for the most part is clueless, before glancing back at Bellamy. She lets out a scoff, “To date you? To _date you_?”

“That’s what I said.” Bellamy says through gritted teeth.

“You mean to sleep with you?”

“No. To date her.”

Raven pauses, glancing back at Bree. They hold each other’s stare for a moment, a silent wave of communication passing from one woman to another. He can only stand and watch, subject to whatever telepathy the two are undergoing. His eyes flee around the hallway of the changeroom, as fellow teammates and cheerleaders pile out of their respective areas, eyeing them suspiciously. He offers a polite wave, before averting his attention back to Raven and Bree, hoping his glare hurries them up.

As if on cue, the two burst into a slew of laughter. Bree’s is more of a round of uncontrollable giggles, while Raven snorts halfway through. Everyone’s eyes are really on them now, as his cheeks burn read and the woman before him seem unable to control their laughter. He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, wincing as embarrassment seeps into his chest.

“Okay, haha, I get it, funny joke.” Bellamy sneers. “But I’m serious. I like Clarke.”

“So you’ve said,” Raven quips, taking a deep breath to control her laughter. “She told us about your little date on the weekend. Seemed like it was cute.”

“Very cute,” Bree pipes in, for no particular reason.

Bellamy huffs in exasperation, “I mean it. I was open with you guys about what I wanted from you. If sex was all I wanted from Clarke, wouldn’t I just say that?”

“It’s not that we expect you to use her for sex,” Raven admits with a shrug. “It’s that your sister is literally insane.”

“Don’t talk about my sister that way.”

“See? You run to her defense. It’s a turn-off.”

Bellamy’s reserved himself to not talking about his sister when he’s with Clarke. He knows that conversation would not take a turn for the good, most likely erupting this plan before it even starts. He hadn’t expected Clarke to be so fearful of her, especially with the vigor she’s thrown back at Octavia for all these years. Dating her brother may be a new low, but she did also just sleep with her boyfriend. He didn’t think Clarke would be so selective.

Octavia would never agree to any type of truce. This plan of hers definitely deters from that route, and the hate she stores in her heart for Clarke Griffin is under strict lock and key. But in order for any of this to work, it seems that she has to back off. Which she can definitely do, if her ultimate goal is to destroy Clarke socially and claim the crown.

Bellamy inhales deeply, exhaling slowly. “I’m not making excuses for Octavia. But she’s still my sister. She just doesn’t factor into Clarke and I’s relationship.”

“She factors into everything,” Bree all but gasps. “She and Clarke are the most popular girls at this school. You dating Clarke will be social suicide for Octavia. Especially now that she’s not with Atom.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way, and he’s sure neither had Octavia. Glancing from Bree to Raven, there seems to be a mutual agreeance between the two. This is something he can get past. If seeing Clarke means re-approaching this with Octavia, he doesn’t see a problem. While he most certainly doesn’t have a solution, his sister definitely would.

* * *

“Social suicide? Me?” Octavia gasps, whiny and high pitched. Bellamy winces, preparing himself as the anger physically festers within her. “What? People think just because I’m not with Atom, my popularity is gone? I made _him_ popular!”

Octavia is the definition of melodrama. Always has been, since birth. Bellamy should be accustom to it by now, but if anything, he just finds it all increasingly irritating. Popularity is etched into the Blake’s bones, and realistically, she should have nothing to worry about. Granted, Bellamy’s not an idiot. He knows majority of Octavia’s social status stemmed from his, and if he were to start dating Clarke, there would be a shift.

But he’s just trying to help her out here. Everything he does is in assistance for Octavia. Which she realizes, for the most part, in random spurts or on a random hour that she feels like being appreciative. However, everything in between consists of her fuming while he’s sewing together the pieces, ensuring that he keeps this family together as best he can. Bellamy’s been doing it his whole life, it comes easy to him. If anything, it’s just become insanely tedious.

Octavia glances over at the field, the cheerleaders shuffled off into one corner while football players are on the other. She squints at the crowd, as if trying to dissect them, rip them a part with only her line of vision. Bellamy sighs deeply, knowing he can’t tear her focus away now, peering out at the field himself.

His team is in the middle of drills, where he should be. But Bellamy’s gaze drifts over to Clarke, most notably one in particular. Clarke’s in the middle of stretching, mind elsewhere. She has such a focus to her, a precision to her expression that brings a small smile to Bellamy’s face. As if she can feel it, her gaze drifts over to him. He catches the shy smile on her face, the acknowledgment of his presence before she zeros back in on her warmups.

“We’re so close,” Octavia hums. Bellamy turns to look at her as her gaze follows along the line of the field, finally stopping on his array of team members. “I need to settle this.”

“I think pretending to make nice with Clarke would be doable,” Bellamy suggests. “You don’t have to mean it, but you have to make other people think you do.”

Octavia chuckles bitterly, not even meeting her brother’s gaze. Bellamy furrows his eyebrows together, following the direction of stare. Finn Collins comes into his line of vision, sweaty and struggling to complete drills, just like a true rookie. But judging by the expression on his sister’s face, that does not seem to be a turn-off for her.

“In order for Clarke to think she’s going to Homecoming with you…” A mischievous smirk appears on Octavia’s face. “I have to even the playing field.”

“With Finn?” Bellamy groans inwardly. “What would that do?”

“Clarke was probably going to go with him if you hadn’t swooped into her pants–”

“I did not–”

“He probably wouldn’t make me win, but it would even the score. Once you dump Clarke, I could get to the crown all on my own.”

The cruel tone to his sister’s voice is chilling, albeit nothing new. Sometimes, he finds himself wondering how Octavia became this way, considering they grew up with the same mother and two different, but oddly alike absent fathers. In fact, Bellamy was the one to practically raise her without a guardian himself, and he found a moral compass of his own along the way. Octavia seemingly hadn’t.

Granted, he’s not sure how great his moral compass is now. Bellamy glances back over at Clarke, busying herself with stretches. His chest tightens, and he remembers just how shitty of a person he is. Maybe it just runs in the Blake’s blood to be this cruel. Octavia’s just more open about it then he is.

Clarke swivels her head around, catching his eye once more. This time, a blush creeps up on those pale cheeks of hers, and he swears his heart skips a beat. He brings his hand up into a little wave, smiling in the cheesiest of ways. She giggles, before turning her attention back to the squad. He finds his gaze lingering just a little bit longer, knowing that in the next couple of weeks, Clarke will only be staring at him with glares and disdain, nothing like how she looks at him now.

Octavia snaps her fingers in front of his face. “Bellamy. Are you listening?”

Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. With everything that happened between Clarke and his sister, what happy ending would they truly find, even if it was real? Any chance for sincerity was scrapped the moment Clarke moved in on Atom. And yet, there’s a sick part of Bellamy that wonders how it would be if it was just the two of them; no external factors budding into who they could be together.

* * *

The next day, Octavia walks into Arkadia High hand in hand with Finn Collins. Bellamy isn’t exactly sure how she does it, especially so soon, but by the end of the school day, everyone’s in whispers about the two. Bellamy watches as Octavia pecks Finn’s cheek in front of their adoring friends, snapping pictures and uploading them to social media like they haven’t been together for all of ten minutes.

It’s all purposeful, a tactic, at least on Octavia’s behalf. She doesn’t even try to make it look natural, although the rest of the student body seems to be eating it up. Everyone’s gushing over the two of them, so much so that people even ask him about it in his classes. He shuts everyone up pretty well with a glare, but Bellamy can’t help but be concerned at how stupid his classmates are. Octavia and Finn hadn’t even spoken before today.

He can’t help but wonder if people would be so adoring towards him and Clarke. It would definitely be a shock to be dating someone people associate with being his sister’s mortal enemy. It would undoubtedly generate a whole lot more of a commotion than whatever is going on with Finn and Octavia, and that mere thought is nauseating. He’s not sure why Octavia would even want that.

And then he remembers – the public breakup. That’s what she’s in it for. Finn is nothing a prop to get her halfway. Bellamy’s part of the plan is what is soaring them through the finish line. A public breakup with Clarke would not only humiliate her, but place Octavia on the pedestal of popularity. Bellamy’s status would remain unchanged, as it always had, and the Blakes would be in the highest form of power at Arkadia High. While it’s not exactly rocket science, it takes the same amount of brain power, seeing by the way Bellamy’s head pounds at the thought.

“When did that happen?” Jasper inquires, an evident tone of hurt.

Bellamy glances beside him at Jasper, who had popped beside him without any sound. He sighs deeply, glancing back over at his sister and Finn. “You know as much as I do.”

Jasper grunts, glaring at Finn through narrowed eyes. “I don’t know what she sees in his floppy hair. Is it because he plays football?”

“Atom didn’t play football,” Bellamy reminds him.

“Damn it.” Jasper chides himself, slumping against the lockers. He suddenly peers up at Bellamy, curious. “What ever happened to the two of them anyway? The night of my party.”

Octavia, as if with a sixth sense, snaps her head to him. She gives him a careful expression, considerate of the crowd she’s tending to, but ensuring that she provides him with a thorough message. Bellamy doesn’t have to guess what it means. Octavia’s just as under wraps about the whole thing as Clarke and Atom are, and he gets it, really. It’s humiliating. After all, that’s why she’s doing all this. To humiliate Clarke the way she did her.

Bellamy sighs deeply, tipping his head in acknowledgement to his sister. He answers truthfully, “I have no idea.”

* * *

Bellamy’s stumbling off of the field after practice, his teammates long gone. This is one of the only days that the cheerleaders don’t clobber onto the field right after football practice, so Bellamy lingers around to practice some more. It’s more of a stress reliver than anything, these past couple of weeks weighing on him heavily. It’s the one place he doesn’t have to deal with the responsibilities that Octavia places on him.

He runs through drills for a second time, feet pounding against the middle of the tires. Proceeding to burpees, and lung throws, anything he can think of. On Wednesdays, Octavia heads to the mall with her friends after school, so he doesn’t have to worry about bringing her home. All there is now is him and the field, and the impending scholarship that hangs over his head.

Sweat dripping from the ends of his hair, Bellamy heaves, trying to control his breath. He flicks his hair up, smoothening it back. It’s then when he notices Clarke, sauntering onto the field in his varsity jacket, a sultry smile on her face. He breaks out into his own grin as she glances behind her, checking if anyone is around before she does a little twirl for him.

“Nice jacket,” Bellamy smirks. “Think I’ve seen it before.”

“Oh, have you?” Clarke teases. She strides a little closer, glancing at him up and down. “How’s it going, Superstar?”

Bellamy finds himself grinning. Could be the compliment of the nickname or the way his heart glows at the sound of her voice. He’ll chalk it up to the first one, because he doesn’t want to dare etching into the implications of the latter.

“Superstar, huh?” Bellamy muses. “I thought I was the one with the nicknames, princess.”

“Tough luck,” Clarke smirks. She halts just a couple feet away from him, a sparkle in her eye. “Raven and Bree told me you spoke to them.”

“Did they now?” Bellamy plays coy, a teasing smile on his face.

“I’ve got to admire your commitment.”

Commitment. That’s almost laughable. He definitely does have a commitment, a devotion to something about Clarke; but it all leads back to his sister. The only reason he’s jumping through these hoops by talking to her friends is because of Octavia, and Clarke’s convinced it’s all because of his commitment to her. It would be a good thing, Bellamy supposes, if he didn’t feel an overwhelming sense of guilt whenever he spots that sweet smile on Clarke Griffin’s face.

A sweet smile, that he has to remember, is deceptive. That should assuage his guilt for the time being, the knowledge that Clarke has hurt his sister beyond repair. This, what he’s doing, is just leveling the playing field. It’s nothing compared to what Clarke did with Atom, considering she broke up a yearlong relationship and he’s only supposed to be going out with her for a couple of weeks. In fact, it won’t even be comparable, it’ll just be getting even.

That’s what Bellamy tells himself, at least. It makes him feel like less of a horrible person to tell himself that Clarke deserves what’s coming to her. That even when all of this is said and done, Octavia will still be the one that’s hurt more. She’ll just be the one with the crown on her head, and Clarke can surely sacrifice that after everything that she’s done.

A moment of silence hangs between the two, everything left unsaid and the pent up tension lingering amongst them. Bellamy, for once, is not exactly sure what to say. He knows what he should say, something to ignite a conversation or asking her out on another date. But he hesitates, and seemingly, so does Clarke, before she takes another step towards him and opens her mouth.

“I want to give this a chance,” Clarke says with that wave of confidence washing over her. “If you want to.”

Bellamy tips his chin up, trying to keep the mystic of the person that she think she knows so well. A playful smile, or maybe a smirk here and there, straightened posture, exuding arrogance. He can’t let her know that there’s a million thoughts running through his head, asking him he has the capacity to do this. The thing is, he knows in every possible way that he can do it. That he has to.

He saunters towards her, a smugness to his expression. “Oh, I really want to, princess.”

Snaking his arms around her waist, Bellamy brings her in for a kiss. She doesn’t taste like strawberries this time, but it’s still different than it was a couple days ago. There’s still a sweetness, a yearn for something more as she wraps her arms around her neck. Kissing Clarke is something he could get used to with this whole arrangement.

Drawing back, Bellamy rests his forehead against hers. “What’s your opinion of me now, huh?”

Clarke hums in thought. “Still up for debate.”

She nuzzles her nose against his in a way that is so fucking adorable, Bellamy thinks he may collapse right there. He really doesn’t know what it is about Clarke Griffin now that is so different from the one he knew a couple weeks ago. She never made him feel this way before.

Granted, now, she slept with his sister’s boyfriend. But he really doesn’t think that’s where the appeal is.

* * *

Mr. Pike gives the class time to work on their projects while he finishes grading their recent quizzes, and Clarke basically becomes a superhuman. She types a million miles a minute, jotting down every word that spews from Bellamy’s mouth – even making a sidebar for commentary. He’s glad that Octavia’s plan coerced him into becoming her partner, because damn, he’s never seen anyone as passionate about AP history as she is.

“Holy fuck,” Bellamy breathes, glancing at their three page document.

“This is just a rough idea,” Clarke sighs.

“This is a fucking novel.”

Clarke gives him a tired smile, leaning back in her chair. She breathes in, exhaling deeply. Bellamy peers at her as she rubs her hand over her tired face, before her fingers go to her temple to gently massage.

“You alright?” Bellamy inquires. “You seem stressed.”

“I am.”

“About this?”

“About everything.”

Everything could encompass a lot of things. Clarke is pretty tight lipped about many of the things going on in her life. Her parents are almost never home, her painting ability is kept under wraps, insecurities Bellamy finds masked under facades. Clarke is a paradox, a lot less simple than the person he first made her out to be. He never wants to pry, knows how it feels to be a private person, but sometimes, he just wants to ask.

They’ve been secretly…whatever for the past week. Stolen kisses under the bleachers or in between classes, meetups on the weekend for their ‘project’ that usually result in a make-out session, late night texts with historical meme commentary – Bellamy can’t stop thinking about her. His days are filled with her, only to come home to Octavia who’s constantly pressuring him to make a move.

He should probably tell Octavia he’s a lot further in the plan than she thinks. It would make sense, considering it’s her plan, or maybe it’s theirs, considering how large his role is. But part of him wants to keep this genuine connection with Clarke for as long as he can. Before Octavia corrupts it with everything that she is.

“Everything,” Bellamy repeats slowly. There’s a pause, neither of them saying anything. The only sound that fills their ears is the chatter of their classmates. Glancing around at their classmates, Bellamy rests his hand on her knee. “You want to talk about it?”

Clarke peers at him, like she’s thinking about it. She gives him a small smile, silently gushing about how sweet he is to ask. She does that a lot. Fails to open up, but brushes him off with one of her sweetest smiles. He hates that he falls for it, way more than he should. But maybe this distance is a good thing for him.

“Come over tonight,” it’s not a question, or an offer. It’s a statement.

“Tonight?” Bellamy quirks an eyebrow.

“I know, it’s last minute and it’s a school night. But my mom is out, and I want some company.”

Bellamy’s not stupid. He knows what this means. Parents out of the house, someone asking him to keep them company. It’s a code for sex, one he knows all too well. Not only has it been used on him before, by her friends and multiple others, but he’s not afraid to admit the trick has worked for him once or twice. And on any other occasion, he’d jump at the opportunity to be alone in the house with a hot girl.

Clarke is not just any hot girl, though. Sleeping with her was never really apart of the plan, although Octavia did mention it would add to the sting. He’s on the borderline of thinking having sex with Clarke is taking things too far, while also recalling both their histories of casual sex. It could very well just be sex for the both of them. But the hopeful twinkle in Clarke’s eye gives him another impression entirely, and the pang returns to his chest.

“Okay,” Bellamy can’t resist the urge to smirk, try to force down any sort of feelings. “I can keep you company.” 

* * *

Clarke kisses him first. The moment they get into her bedroom, her hands come to cup his face, and her lips crash against his. It’s heated, and fiery, and Bellamy finds the passion going straight to his pants as her torso glides against his. He doesn’t hesitate to snake his arms around her waist, gently guiding her to her bed. They fall against in, in a messy way that makes him look anything but experienced, but they brush it off with a couple of clumsy laughs.

“Is this okay?” Bellamy murmurs against her lips as they come down from their laughing fit.

Clarke presses her lips harder against his. “Yes. I’m okay.”

He repositions them, ensuring that she’s comfortable as she lays in the middle of her bed. Bellamy climbs on top of her, gazing down at her as she peers up at him. Her eyes are full with want, but he notes the nervous little spurts of breath that she takes. He leans down, brushing his lips against her nose to comfort her. Clarke tilts her chin up, meeting his lips once more.

“Clarke,” Bellamy says carefully. “We don’t have to–”

“I know,” Clarke insists. She curls her fingers around the scruff of his shirt, but her breath is a little more shaky. Her gaze flicks up to meet his. “Do you want this?”

Bellamy’s throat goes dry. He knows what the right answer is, though he’s not exactly certain what the honest one is. And as Clarke looks up at him, with those big doe-eyes and a nervous flutter to her voice, he tries to decide which one would save her from the most heartache. He peers down at her, balancing on one forearm before bringing his opposite hand up to brush the hair from her face.

The palm of his hand rests against her cheeks. “I want you to be comfortable. And it doesn’t seem like you are.”

Clarke swallows thickly, “I’m not like – a prude, or anything.”

_He knows_. Bellamy forces a smile. “You know, I don’t like you because I want to have sex with you.”

Clarke sits up so fast, she knocks him off of her. Bellamy stumbles back onto the mattress, putting his hands up in mock defense as she glares at him so intensely, she could burn holes into his skin without batting an eye.

“No, no, I mean – I do, I would, have sex with you.” Bellamy rambles. Clarke relaxes, if only slightly, furrowing her eyebrows at him. “But I like you for so much more than that.” Her lips purse as she rests her back against the headboard. He creeps closer, planting a soft kiss on her cheek. “Clarke, I want to be with you for you. I wouldn’t have cornered your friends if I only wanted sex.”

Clarke peers up at him, a small smile on her lips. “I still can’t believe you did.”

“Well, believe it, cause I’m going to be hearing about it for a bit.”

She lets out a light giggle, peering at him with such adoration that Bellamy feels his throat go dry. Clarke reaches her hand out, cupping his cheek lightly. Bellamy leans into her touch, staring at her with the same affection. He can’t help it, although he knows he should. All of this is feeling far too natural.

“I guess I’m just trying to figure out what this means,” Clarke says quietly, thumb grazing against his cheek.

Her touch is driving him crazy. His heart is beating too fast. Bellamy’s voice comes out almost as a breath, “I like you and you like me. What’s there to figure out?”

Clarke shrugs her shoulders. She leans forward, giving him the softest peck on the lips. Bellamy yearns for more, deepening his mouth against hers just the slightest bit. Clarke returns the motion, if only for a couple of moments before she pulls away.

There’s a question in her eyes, one Bellamy’s seen in far too many girls that he’s been with. He’s usually straightforward about his answer, and honestly, most girls know it before they even enter any sort of fling with him. He’s not looking for a serious relationship. Never really has been, not with everything that’s on his plate with school, football and Octavia. All he has time for, all he’s ever really cared to put any effort into is sex.

Gazing at Clarke, though, he knows that’s not going to fly. It’s also not a part of the plan. He has to pretend to date Clarke, pretend to be invested in her beyond the plan for it to actually work. He should not be hesitating, not be overthinking – is this too fast? Is this natural enough? Does she really want this? Would she say yes? He should just ask. But he already knows the answer, and that may just be the worst part of all of this.

A label is set in stone. He would be Clarke’s boyfriend, going with the plan, and he would dump her and became an ex in a couple weeks, also a part of the plan. This should be a simple answer. Yet, staring at her, with that softness in her eyes, Bellamy finds his mouth screwed shut. He has to remind himself, as he always does, who and what this is for. Clarke should not have this hold on him, not when none of this is supposed to be real.

“Is that what’s been bothering you today?” Bellamy asks softly. “That you don’t know what this means?”

Clarke inhales, exhaling sharply through her nose. She stares down at her lap, as Bellamy rests his hand on her thigh to comfort her. He squeezes lightly, just to see a smile appear on her face. It works, and she lifts her head back up to look at him.

“It’s other stuff,” Clarke admits. “My friends, your sister–”

“I talked to your friends,” Bellamy squints, “And my sister... She’s not going to be a problem.” _For now_. “She has Finn.”

Clarke nods slowly, her eyes narrowing just slightly, like she’s trying to figure something out. Maybe it’s Bellamy that she finds so skeptical, maybe his façade isn’t as concrete as he thought it was. He’s already adding the pressure by not telling her plain and simple what this is; he’s not even putting the fake label on it. He’s holding back, for reasons he fails to admit to himself, that he fears to speak aloud to her.

“She does seem to have Finn,” Clarke starts slowly. Bellamy notes the awkward phrasing. There seems to be more she wants to say. “Right in time for Homecoming.”

The word itself makes his throat go dry. “Homecoming.”

“Yeah, homecoming,” Clarke states plainly. “Nominations are this week.”

Bellamy lets himself relax, if only slightly. “You’re afraid you won’t get nominated?”

“No, I know I will be,” Clarke flips her hair over her shoulder boisterously, smiling when she earns a chuckle from Bellamy. She slumps against the headboard, her smile diminishing. “Roma’s won the past two years I’ve been at Arkadia High. And the year before I got there. It’s finally my turn.”

Octavia seems to think the same thing. Bellamy chooses against voicing this, though. He can already predict Clarke coming to the same conclusion that his sister did. An association to him is a guaranteed boost. He almost feels used, thinking Clarke is alluding to that. He supposes he deserves it, though. After all, what he’s using her for is ten times worse.

Except, Clarke doesn’t mention anything about them going together. There’s reflection in her eyes, contemplative. Debating whether or not Bellamy is someone worth opening up to. He kind of hopes she decides that he isn’t. Because in all honesty, he’s not. This is supposed to be superficial, and yet, everything about him and Clarke’s relationship has felt more real than anything else in his life.

“My parents were Homecoming King and Queen, you know.” Clarke puffs out a bitter laugh. “And Prom King and Queen. My mom probably wouldn’t have won on her own, but my dad has this charisma to him. Everyone loved him.”

Bellamy notes the past tense. He remembers a day in the fifth grade, Octavia coming home announcing how long someone was supposed to be in mourning for. When asked why, she stated she had to hold back on screaming at Clarke for a bit because he dad died, and she wasn’t an emotionless monster. Their mom sent her mom flowers and the Blakes were on their best behavior that year.

“It didn’t even mean anything to my dad,” Clarke shrugs, a reminiscent smile on her face. “But it mattered to my mom. So every year, he campaigned so that she would win.”

Bellamy hums softly as Clarke rests her head on his shoulder. “He sounds like he was really great.”

“He was.”

There’s a brief pause, one that stings Bellamy’s chest. “Is it important to you?”

“It’s still important to my mom.”

A light chuckle escapes past Bellamy’s lips. Clarke snuggles up a little closer to him, wrapping her hands around his arm. He glances down at Clarke, as her cheek presses up against his chest. This is a Clarke he’s never seen, so open and vulnerable and cuddled up next to him. He almost wishes he never had the privilege of seeing her like this. Not when he’s going to be ripping everything away from her.

“Be my Homecoming date,” Bellamy blurts out.

Clarke raises her eyebrows. It’s not what she was expecting, and honestly, Bellamy was surprised, too. “Homecoming date?”

“People go to Homecoming when they’re together, right?” Bellamy rephrases. He takes her hand, intertwining their fingers. He locks eyes with her. “Go with me.”

“We’re together?” Clarke repeats, skepticism seeping from her tone.

“Unless you don’t want to be.”

There’s a pause, one long enough to prick every bit of nerves in Bellamy’s body. If his throat was dry before, it’s a dessert now, his heart beating erratically and palms growing sweaty. He squeezes Clarke’s hand tighter, hope stemming from all different outlets. A hope she’ll say no, so this plan will be over before it begins. A hope she’ll say yes, so his sister’s plan can work. A hope she’ll say yes, or maybe that she says no, because she actually wants to be with him.

Clarke breaks out into a grin, pressing her lips against his. He’ll take that as yes. Either way it could have gone, Bellamy’s sure the dread that plagues his chest would have been the same.

* * *

Bellamy doesn’t exactly recall asking to make things official, but the rest of the student body seems to think that. And he certainly knows he must have made it appear that way to Clarke. She seems to have mentioned it to her friends, because by the next morning, the whole school knows that the two of them are together. And that they’re going to Homecoming together.

Bellamy will miss the longing looks from woman in the halls, who now deter to him with glares. It’s a surprise to everyone, really. In his four years of high school, Bellamy Blake has never committed to one person. And the last individual anyone would have thought he’d bite the bullet for is Clarke Griffin, his sister’s mortal enemy.

“Did Octavia flip?” Jasper corners him at his locker, eyes bugging.

Speaking of the devil – Octavia rounds the corner, a fury in her step. She scans the hallway as people part way for her like the Red Sea, a blaze in her eyes that Bellamy hasn’t seen in a while. When she locks eyes with him, she starts marching over, as if she’s on a mission. Bellamy sighs deeply, trying to mentally prepare for whatever his sister has in store for him now.

“I guess we’ll find out,” Bellamy mutters, shutting his locker.

Octavia reaches the two of them, but to both of their surprise, says nothing. She crosses her arms firmly over her chest, shooting daggers at Bellamy, as if that’s supposed to entice him to open his mouth and start talking. Bellamy stays still, simply staring back plainly at his sister. This is most likely to rile her up even more, but after all that she’s making him do, he should get to have a little bit of fun with her.

Jasper glances between the Blake’s, confused and out of sorts. His gaze lands on Octavia. Wrong choice. “Hey, Octavia–”

“Get lost.” Octavia snaps.

He’s scurrying off before she can even finish her sentence. Bellamy rolls his eyes, whether at Jasper’s cowardice or his sister’s rude tone, he’s not exactly sure. All he does know is that he’s annoyed, and he doesn’t want to deal with whatever she has to say.

Octavia punches his arm with her tiny fist. “Why wouldn’t you tell me you asked Clarke to Homecoming? That you’re _together_?”

“Does it matter?” Bellamy seethes, clutching his arm. “Your plan is working.”

“I need to be updated, Bellamy,” Octavia hisses, eyes narrowed into slits. “I have a job to do, too. Now that you and Clarke are official, I can talk to Atom–”

“Talk to Atom?” Bellamy furrows his brows. “Aren’t you with Finn now? What do you need Atom for?”

Octavia merely brushes him off with the wave of her hand. “Don’t worry about it.” She straightens, surveying over her brother with a skeptical look. “I just need you to keep me in the loop.”

In all honesty, Bellamy purposely hadn’t told Octavia about him and Clarke. He thought he’d have a few extra days, or maybe weeks, until everything was out in the public eye. The whole thing made him physically nauseated to think about, and Octavia’s comments were usually less than helpful.

Before he can make up a less than practical excuse, Clarke appears at the end of the hall. Raven and Bree are alongside her, chatting leisurely, but Clarke’s eyes catch his in the midst of conversation. She breaks out into that signature smile of hers, and leans her hand up to wave. Bellamy smiles back, outstretching a wave himself. Her face falls suddenly, reserving herself back to a stoic expression, and Bellamy suddenly remembers that his sister exists.

Octavia’s staring down Clarke, before she whips her head around to look back at Bellamy. She doesn’t seem to do a good job in deterring his fake girlfriend, however, because Clarke excuses herself from her friends and saunters up to the two of them. He admires her bravery, a smirk appearing on his face directed towards his domineering sister.

Clarke wraps her arm around Bellamy, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Hey.” She pretends to just notice Octavia, a sickly sweet smile appearing on her face. “Octavia.”

Bellamy slides his arm around Clarke’s waist naturally, turning his attention to Octavia. She seems to not know how to approach this. Her plan requires Clarke and Bellamy to date in order to work, but Octavia has been physically incapable of being civil to her since they were four years old. Bellamy can see her debate her options in her head as she glances Clarke over, eyes squinted.

Normally, Clarke and Octavia avoid each other. While their elementary school days were a little more personal, their feud now exists in their own minds and in the perspective of their classmates. Everything is strategical, and behind their back. Their cruel intentions towards one another are usually more secretive and catty and don’t require face-to-face contact. It’s sneaky and conniving, and it always makes Bellamy’s head hurt. But somehow, it’s worse than it was when they would actually speak to each other.

Look at them now. Clarke sleeping with Octavia’s boyfriend, and his sister creating a fake relationship for her enemy in retaliation. It’s scarier than the past twelve years Bellamy’s been witness to. And now, he’s a part of that terror.

“Clarke,” Octavia nods her head towards her. Bellamy’s chest deflates in relief, granted, all too soon. “I hope you don’t infect my brother with whatever disease you have.”

“Me?” Clarke unwraps her hand from Bellamy. “I’m not the one who–”

“Watch what you say, _princess_ ,” Octavia seethes. “Atom’s not here to save you now.”

Clarke scowls, opening her mouth to retaliate. Bellamy hovers in between the two of them, knowing that if he would have to hold anyone back, it would be Octavia. His sister is scrappy, and while he doesn’t doubt Clarke could hold her own, he doesn’t want any of their blood on his hands. And Octavia would definitely be the one to throw the first punch.

However, Clarke glances at Bellamy, and her expression softens. She sighs inwardly, looking back to Octavia and screwing her lips shut. Bellamy furrows his eyebrows together, glancing at his sister for an explanation that he knows Clarke won’t give. Octavia just smile, her lips embedded in plastic, with an all too familiar mischief in her eyes.

Bellamy narrows his eyes. “Octavia. Apologize to Clarke.”

Clarke’s eyes widen, and Octavia is taken aback. He hadn’t expected the words to tumble from his own lips, but they did, a protective force within him exuding from his chest. He knows Clarke isn’t perfect, but what Octavia said was uncalled for. And if they want this to look real, he has to pretend to be a good boyfriend. Even if he certainly doesn’t feel like one.

“Are you serious?” Octavia sneers.

“I am,” Bellamy wraps his hand back around Clarke’s waist, and holds her close. “I didn’t like your boyfriends. But I respected them.”

“ _She_ doesn’t deserve my respect.”

“Octavia. I’m not going to ask again.”

Octavia knows what her brother is trying to do. This is all for the plan, in order for it to make realistic. Her plan, might he remind her. If he lets Octavia run her mouth off to Clarke, it’s going to appear like he’s choosing his sister over someone who’s supposed to be his girlfriend. Octavia’s not going to back down from Clarke, but someone’s got to give in somewhere. But this doesn’t mean that he’s not having fun seeing the frustration written across his sister’s face when he has to be the one to do it.

She swivels her head, painfully slowly, back towards Clarke. His pretend girlfriend seems to be taking some enjoyment in this as well. She deserves to, considering this will all come crashing down sooner or later. He can’t help but enjoy the delight sprawled across Clarke’s features, though.

“ _Sorry_ ,” Octavia draws out. She steps towards Clarke menacingly, narrowing her eyes. “But don’t get me wrong, Clarke. This is long from over.”

Clarke says nothing, just stares at Octavia with a defiant look in her eye. Octavia straightens, gaze lingering on Clarke just for a moment, before she shoots a quick glare at Bellamy. She swivels around on her heel, sauntering off without another word. Bellamy watches her go, ensuring that she disappears around the hall before he turns his attention back to Clarke.

“Sorry about her,” Bellamy winces. “But if it makes you feel better, she took this a lot better than I thought.”

“Don’t worry. If you weren’t around, I would have been chewing her out,” Clarke places her hands on his chest, smiling up at him.

Bellamy finds himself captured in her smile. There’s such a sweetness, a genuine twinge to it that makes him second guess everything Octavia has ever told him about Clarke. It makes him feel horrible, to be second-guessing his sister and her lifelong feud with the woman who he spent all of last night making out with. But this is all for his sister, Bellamy reminds himself. No matter how sweet Clarke’s smile is.

He gives in, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I’d prefer if you guys just got along.”

They both know that isn’t going to happen. Especially not after all of this.

Clarke scoffs, drawing back from him. She slides her hands up around his neck, gazing up at him with such an affection, he feels his heart soar. “I will be civil with her. For your sake?”

“For my sake?” Bellamy smirks, leaning in to steal one more kiss, selfishly.

Clarke’s lips meet his, and he melts into her mouth. When this all said and done, and Clarke hates his guts and never speaks to him again, he’s going to miss this. Just her mouth, just the kisses. Nothing more.

* * *

It’s not out of the ordinary for Bellamy to be the last one in the changeroom. He’s usually the last one off the field, so most of his teammates are gone by the time he finally strolls in. By the time he’s showered, packed up and changed back into his normal clothes, everyone is most likely already gone. Octavia hates it, despises having to wait for him, but most of the time, she doesn’t have another ride, so she has no other choice.

It is out of the ordinary, however, for him to find Atom waiting for him.

Bellamy’s just stepped out of the shower, slipped on his t-shirt and sweats, when he turns around to see Atom standing in the doorway. He stands tall, although Bellamy can see his nerves shining through just a bit. Bellamy always stands taller, is always more set within himself, and has never in his life been intimidated by one of Octavia’s boyfriends. Especially not Atom.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Bellamy chuckles darkly, striding up to him slowly. “Showing your face around here.”

“So you do know,” Atom accuses him. “Why Octavia and I broke up.”

He can’t let Atom now that. Bellamy straightens, lips pursing shut. He surveys over Atom, anger festering inside of him. For the past couple of weeks, he’s tried to steer clear of Atom because every time he’s near him, he wants to send a round of punches to his face. Octavia made him swear that he wouldn’t and he had intended to keep his promise to his sister. Although, he’s not sure how long he can keep it up for.

“That you threw some sort of bitch fit and made her cry?” Bellamy huffs. “Yeah, I know.”

Atom pauses, chewing on his bottom lip. He inhales, exhaling deeply, like he’s working up the courage to say something. “You know Clarke was there.”

Bellamy’s having trouble keeping up with the lies. Did he know she was there? Octavia and him hadn’t discussed her involvement. He decides to plead the fifth, staying quiet. It’s better than saying something that’s going to fuck him over.

Atom takes a step towards Bellamy. “I was with Octavia for a year. And now, you’re suddenly dating her mortal enemy. Something doesn’t add up, Bellamy.”

“Octavia doesn’t dictate my dating life, like I don’t dictate hers,” Bellamy scowls, glaring harshly at Atom. “If I did, you wouldn’t have even been with her for five minutes.”

“You barely gave Clarke the time of day before.”

“Oh, and you would know.”

“Bellamy, I think Octavia is lying to–”

Something inside Bellamy snaps, and he rushes up on Atom, slamming him against the wall. He pins him by the scruff of his shirt, just inches away from her face. Atom yelps in pain. He’s no football star, definitely not anything close to an athlete. Bellamy could snap him in half without blinking an eye, and he’d probably get away with it, too.

“Don’t fucking talk about my sister,” Bellamy seethes, fury fuming from his mouth. Atom says nothing, and Bellamy tightens his grip. “Did you hear me?”

“I don’t know what you’re doing to Clarke,” Atom manages to get out. “I don’t know, okay? But it can’t be a coincidence. Whatever Octavia said to you–”

A different wave of fury rushes over Bellamy. Mentioning his sister is one thing, something inexcusable that the whole student body knows not to approach. But, Clarke, however is new territory. Bellamy doesn’t expect it himself, to be so enraged by the thought of someone second guessing his loyalty to her. He knows it’s not fair, not to Clarke, and fortunately not to Atom, but it’s an overwhelming rage that consumes Bellamy.

“Octavia didn’t say shit,” Bellamy sneers. “I like Clarke. I want to be with her. I am with her.” Atom just stares up at him, breathing heavily. “You’re just fucking pissed you can’t have my sister and you can’t have my girlfriend.”

Atom’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Wait, what?”

“Bellamy,” Octavia’s quiet voice echoes throughout the changeroom. Bellamy instantly drops Atom, the boy scrambling to his feet as they both turn to stare at Octavia. She glances from the two, a mixture of panic and confusion exuding from her features. “Bellamy, let’s go home. I want to go home.”

There’s a crack in her voice, one Bellamy hasn’t heard since the night of Jasper’s party. A vulnerability that breaks his heart, that is so similar to the Octavia he’s grown up with, the sister that he raised. One that reminds him why he does everything for her, why he gives up his morality and his life to ensure that hers is smooth sailing. All of this, everything he’s doing, is for his sister. And he can’t mess that up.

Bellamy gives one last glare to Atom, who says nothing, but stares at Octavia with an incredulous look. He chooses to ignore it, for his sister, swinging his duffle bag with his uniform and supplies over his shoulder. Hooking his arm with Octavia, only looking back once.

“Stay away from my sister. And from Clarke.”

With that, he shuffles Octavia out of the changeroom, not even looking to catch Atom’s reaction.

* * *

“What did you say to him?”

Bellamy’s barely got through the door when Octavia starts making demands. He sighs heavily, dropping his duffle bag onto the floor with a following groan. He turns to face Octavia, standing by the door with her arms crossed over her chest and glossy eyes. Bellamy instantly softens, taking a step towards Octavia.

“I didn’t say anything,” Bellamy reassures her. “He was just skeptical. I shut him down.”

“What did he say?” Octavia demands, a shakiness to her tone that Bellamy doesn’t recognize.

He straightens, taking a shaky breath. It had been on his mind the whole car ride home. “He said you were lying to me.”

“And you believe that?” Octavia surges forward, locking eyes with her brother pleadingly. “What would I even have to lie about?”

  
“I don’t know,” Bellamy admits honestly. “Maybe about Finn? He doesn’t think that’s real.”

“It barely is,” Octavia scoffs. “But what I felt for Atom was. What happened _was_.”

Bellamy inhales, nodding along. He steps forward, bringing Octavia in for a hug. His sister clings to him, wrapping her arms around him and holding him close. She buries her head in his shoulder, not crying, but sniffling a bit. He tightens his arms around her, thinking about how they got here. Octavia doesn’t cry much, but when she does, it’s like his world is crashing down with her.

“What I feel for Clarke is also real,” Octavia mutters. She looks up at her brother, red, swollen eyes staring back at him. “I hate her. I always will.”

She untangles herself from Bellamy’s grasp, taking a step back from him. Bellamy just stares back, feeling like a horrible brother. He may be fulfilling Clarke’s plan, but what he feels for Clarke is also real. Scarily real. Every time his heart beats for her, or when he looks at her with such adoration, when he feels himself drawn to her – he has to remind himself of everything that she is. Everything that she’s done to Octavia.

He didn’t expect it to be so hard. He’s despised Clarke simply because Octavia does for over a decade. But when his lips are on hers, when he’s lying in her bed, watching her paint or seeing her smile – everything goes out the window. And that’s not the type of brother he is. Or at least, that’s not the one that he wants to be.

“I’m sorry for not defending you when she was around,” Bellamy says softly. “I just – I wanted to look realistic–”

Octavia shakes her head, merely brushing him off without much regard. “Bellamy. I know you. Your heart is bigger than the average humans. It’s fucking annoying.” She takes a deep shaky breath to calm herself. “This thing between you and Clarke… There’s nothing going on, right? You’re not starting to feel like this could be real?”

Maybe he should just come clean. Tell Octavia that how Clarke makes him feel is very real, although he’s tried so hard to deny it. That way, their plan would stop here. He’d end things with Clarke before it even really started and everything would go back to normal. He wouldn’t need to feel like he’s betraying his role as a brother, like he’s not enough for his sister who needs him. He could actually put a stop to how he feels about Clarke Griffin and he could go back to hating her. After all, he has every reason to hate her.

He hates that he doesn’t. For years, hating her was so simple. Bellamy could just rely on Octavia’s word, and hate Clarke Griffin a little more each and every day. It had been a seamless process, for over a decade. And the second he steps out of the box Octavia had constructed for him, he starts to like her. Bellamy fears he may even more than like her. He doesn’t want to think about that, he wants to push that out of his mind.

Bellamy has to choose his sister. Blood overrides whatever the fuck this is between him and Clarke. At the end of the day, it’s always going to be the two of them – the Blake’s. His family, his sister comes before everyone. Even himself.

“Octavia, I feel absolutely nothing for Clarke.” Bellamy starts with a dry chuckle. “I can’t stand her. She’s nothing more than pretentious, snobby princess who whines about literally everything known to man.” He’s lying out of his ass, but fuck, he hopes Octavia believes him. “Being around her is so goddamn draining, I want to pull my hair out. I’m only doing this for you.” A forced, playful smile appears on his face. “And maybe because I could get her ass in bed.”

Octavia rolls her eyes, but the smallest of smiles appears on her face. Her skin is still blotchy, eyes still stained red, but he’s relieved to see the smile appear on his sister’s face. He feels relief wash over him, chooses to ignore the pang in his chest. He’s doing this for Octavia. Everything he does is for Octavia. This is no different.

* * *

The nominations come out at the first pep rally.

_Homecoming King:_

_Bellamy Blake_

_Finn Collins_

_Homecoming Queen:_

_Octavia Blake_

_Clarke Griffin_

Nobody is surprised, especially not Bellamy. But his heart fills with dread when the announcement booms over the megaphone, and Clarke leans in excitedly to kiss his cheek while Octavia bounces for joy across the bleachers.

* * *

As they etch closer to Homecoming, Bellamy struggles to keep this distance between what is real and what’s pretend with Clarke. He’s with her all the time, and maybe it’s on him to distance himself, but he finds himself wanting to spend time with her. It certainly doesn’t help the circumstances, but selfishly, Bellamy wants to live in the pretend to. For as long as he possibly can.

Clarke perches herself on the bleachers, typing away at her laptop. She has cheer practice after the football players conclude, but for the past couple of sessions, she’s been in the bleachers, working on their assignment. She’s similar to Bellamy in terms of her work ethic, her passion for perfection especially when it comes to her school work. Which is why while she’s in cheer practice, he’s the one typing away at the laptop.

On his water break, Bellamy jogs over to Clarke. “Hey, princess.”

Clarke grins up at him, puckering her lips for a kiss. He presses his fingers against the metal of the bleachers and pecks her lips, before she immediately returns back to her laptop.

“We have a couple more weeks, you know,” Bellamy chuckles lightly, swiveling around to peer over her shoulder. “You’re doing too much, baby.”

She shivers against him, and Bellamy tenses. It’s the first time he’s used the nickname, and by the flush of her cheeks, she seems to like it just as much as he does. Clarke leans back and presses her lips against his cheek in a quick peck, a silent thank you, before her fingers resume their quick pace against the keyboard.

“The next couple of weeks are going to be hell,” Clarke mutters. “Especially with campaigning for Homecoming Queen.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit sexist that the queen nominees have to campaign, but the kings don’t have to?” Bellamy teases, a playful smirk drawing across his face.

“It’s not that we have to. It’s that Octavia and I actually care about winning.”

_Believe me, I know_. Bellamy huffs, slumping against the bleachers beside her. He reaches for his water bottle, chugging down the substance to subdue his dry throat. Glancing back at Clarke, her eyes still glued to the screen, he feels that ever-present pang in his chest. She and his sister are so determined about becoming Homecoming Queen and everything that has to do with it, and he’ll inevitably have to choose between the two.

Bellamy’s won Homecoming King the past three years in a row. Even as a freshman, it just came to him naturally. In all honesty, his life would not change if he hadn’t been King or if he isn’t this year. He just knows that he is, like he knows that Octavia and Clarke will fight to the death to be crowned Queen.

“What are you going to do to campaign?” Bellamy inquires. Clarke is silent, seeming not to hear him, continuing to type away. He tries again, “Do you want my help?”

Clarke sighs deeply, taking a pause before she firmly shuts her laptop. “I don’t want to drag you into the campaign process when I’m competing against your sister.”

“Octavia can hold her own,” Bellamy shrugs. It’s not like he’s exaggerating. He knows how this ends. But he can be a good boyfriend until then. “I want to help. What do you need me to do? Pass out flyers? Make posters?”

She shakes her head, a dubious smile sneaking onto her lips. Bellamy nudges her playfully, attempting to get more of a grin out of her. Clarke sighs deeply, glancing at him with an incredulous look on her face. But she’s beaming, sending a ray straight into Bellamy’s chest that rids of any pang he may have felt before.

“You don’t take no for an answer, do you?” Clarke taunts.

“Not when it comes to you, baby.” Bellamy smirks.

Clarke bites down on her bottom lip, eyes flickering up to meet his. The word seems to be a very powerful one, and fuck, it gets Bellamy excited, too. Everything about her evokes something new inside of him, and while he knows he shouldn’t be feeling it, he can’t help but divulge in every single element she ignites in him.

It’s the most natural he’s ever felt with someone in a long time. Even around Octavia, he’s sheltered behind protecting her, catering to her, ensuring that she’s okay. With Clarke, it’s an equal scale. She doesn’t ask for much from him, ever, if only to really get to know her. He yearns to do just that, to learn everything about her, to treat her as affectionately as she treats him. Right now, he’s doing just that. But eventually, that’ll fade away.

For now, Bellamy wants to be a good boyfriend. He wants to be someone that she can lean on, wants to be someone she genuinely enjoys being around. Clarke is all those things for him, and more. He knows eventually this will all go away, explode into flames and it’ll be nobody else’s fault but his own – but for now, he has Clarke. In their façade of perfection.

“I’m making cupcakes over the weekend,” Clarke gives in. “To bribe everyone.”

Bellamy chuckles fondly. “It’s a good form of bribery.”

“I think so. And I think you know your way around the kitchen. If you’d like to help.”

“Bellamy! Get your ass back over here!” Coach Kane shouts after him.

Leaning in for a quick kiss, Bellamy pecks her lips. “I’ll be there, baby.”

He doesn’t get to take in her reaction as he jogs back onto the field. But he’s sure that he’ll be able to see it this weekend, in all of its glory.

* * *

Octavia stops him before he walks out the door. “You’re making cupcakes? Are you trying to make me lose?”

Bellamy’s hand was on the fucking doorknob, so close to sprinting out the door before facing his sister’s wrath. Clarke had been talking about campaigning with cupcakes at cheer practice, and of course, Octavia had caught wind of it. Which meant, by default, Bellamy was the one to blame.

He sighs deeply, turning around to face her. “What do you want from me, Octavia? I have to be a decent boyfriend to Clarke in order for any of this to work.”

“You’re getting a little too comfortable,” Octavia accuses. “You can’t actually be her boyfriend and still be my brother.”

Bellamy stares at her, dumbfounded, as if the past couple of weeks hadn’t been dedicated to just that. This whole plan revolves around Bellamy being both Clarke’s boyfriend and Octavia’s brother, a medium that is stretching himself beyond thin. The problem isn’t that he’s both, it’s that he’s enjoying it, and that’s what gets Octavia. Not the fact that he’s doing a good fucking job, the fact that he actually likes the time that he spends with Clarke.

Yeah, maybe, that wasn’t supposed to happen. Bellamy was supposed to continue hating Clarke because of everything she did to Octavia. To his credit, when he allows himself to think about it, he does hate Clarke. He hates everything that she did that contributed to this feud with his sister, but what he hates more is that it lead them to him having to pretend to like her instead of actually doing so. He hates that he could be happy with Clarke, if it wasn’t for everything that she and his sister have done to one another.

It’s selfish of him, Bellamy knows that. But in his seventeen years of life, selfishness has never been on Bellamy’s radar. He’s given up his life to raise Octavia, joined football just to get a scholarship, ensured he got good grades so that when he finally graduated, he could take Octavia somewhere and never look back. His whole life has been centered around his sister, not himself. Clarke is the one person who allows him to be selfish, who allows him to feel in all of his capacity without having to worry about his sister.

And it’s not like it’s going to be that way for long. Homecoming is in a couple of weeks. Then this all goes away, and Bellamy’s back to dedicating his every move in life to Octavia. It’s still what he’s doing now. He only started pursuing Clarke because of everything he’s doing for Octavia. At the end of the day, this is still for her, and it’s still going to backfire on him.

“What if I can?” Bellamy challenges.

Octavia gapes at him, a huff escaping her lips. She crosses her arms over her chest, tilting her chin upwards. “Don’t tell me you actually like her. After everything she’s done to me.”

“You’ve done some pretty horrible things to her, too, Octavia,” Bellamy argues.

“I didn’t fuck her boyfriend.”

Bellamy screws his lips shut. Being selfish has its consequences, and the impending guilt he feels whenever he disappoints Octavia is one of them. “None of this is real, Octavia. I’m doing this for you.”

Octavia pauses before taking a deep breath. “At the end of the day, it’s always going to be you and me, Bellamy. Just the two of us. Like it’s always been. Like it’s supposed to be.”

He knows that. It’s ingrained into his being, knowing that it will always be him and Octavia, even years down the road. That’s how it’s been this far. That’s how it’ll be for the rest of their days, no matter what partners or friends come and go, no matter when their mother decides to visit, no matter what happens with Clarke Griffin. It’ll always be the two of them.

So, for now, Bellamy will enjoy his life not surrounding his little sister. He’ll take solace in Clarke, and everything that she allows him to be. It’s not like she’ll be around for long.

* * *

Clarke cannot, for the life of her, bake. She struggles with the measurements, trips over herself pouring them into their designated pans, and makes a mess of herself. Bellamy does most of the heavy lifting, but he does enjoy seeing her try her best to complete such a simple task.

“Have you ever touched any baking instrument ever?” Bellamy smirks, sliding the cupcake pan into the oven to bake.

She sighs in exasperation, rubbing her temples. “I haven’t needed to until now.”

Bellamy closes the oven, grabbing a washcloth and scrubbing off the excess batter on his hands. He disregards the rag in the sink as Clarke leans her back against the counter, sighing in defeat. Bellamy stares at her, cupcake batter staining her sweatpants and flour littering her cheeks. It’s nothing short of adorable, especially as she pouts.

“Oh, poor baby,” Bellamy teases, waltzing over to her. He places his hands on either side of her hips, leaning in and lightly kissing her nose. “You did good.”

“ _You_ did good.” Clarke huffs. “I made a mess.”

“Mess is good,” Bellamy smirks. “Means you’re doing something.”

“Mess is messy,” Clarke scoffs. “I rather continue doing everything perfectly. Being non-perfect is stressful.”

“Hm, cause you’re just so perfect, huh?”

“Can’t you tell?”

Bellamy grins wolfishly, unable to contain the way his heart glows when Clarke looks up at him with her big doe-eyes. He’s in far too fucking deep. And right now, he doesn’t care. Right now, it’s just him and Clarke. He’s going to ensure that he has her for as long as he possibly can.

He reaches behind him, grabbing the rag hanging over the sink and bringing it to her face. Gently, he glides the damp rag against her skin, ridding of the flour and batter staining her cheeks. Clarke’s eyes melt into his as the fabric of the cloth swipes against her skin, slow and purposeful. Bellamy stares back, no longer intent with cleaning her up, more so itching for the brief moments his fingers brush against the softness of her. 

“Bellamy,” Clarke says softly.

Bellamy hums, voice caught in his throat.

She says nothing, but draws forward, smoothening her lips against his. Bellamy drops the rag onto the counter behind her, snaking his hands around her waist to pull her closer. Her hands cup his cheeks, inhaling him, as Bellamy hoists her up into his grasp. Clarke steadies her thighs on either side of his torso as Bellamy positions her on the counter, deepening his mouth against hers.

As her tongue snakes into his mouth, Clarke grabs his wrist bringing it to the hem of her pants. Bellamy hums, dropping his hands back down to the counter. Clarke huffs into his mouth, bringing his hands back to her hips. He grips her flesh in his hands, pulling her closer to him. Clarke doesn’t seem satisfied with this, wrapping her fingers around his and hooking it under her leggings.

“Clarke,” Bellamy murmurs against her mouth. “Not like this.”

“Why not like this?” Clarke whines.

Bellamy’s done it like this before. Hard, fast, rough and against a counter. It’s over before it even begins, just a means to an end to get off. He doesn’t want that with Clarke, at least not for their first time together. He wants it slow, passionate, intimate and everything that she makes him feel encompassed into one special moment between them.

The thought almost makes him nauseated, but in a good way. Everything with Clarke is on a time limit, not meant for forever. But at least he can make the most of the time he does have with her. He intends to make every moment matter, make every moment special, every moment guaranteed to be as amazing for her as it is for him. Taking her on this counter is more than tempting, but it’s not how this should go.

He rests his forehead against hers, absorbing those big, blue eyes that she stares up at him with. Fuck, all he wants to do is please her, make her feel good. He can still do that, Bellamy knows, as he tugs down on the hem of her pants.

“I can still make you feel good,” Bellamy offers. “Another way.”

Clarke leans up a little, Bellamy’s arm wrapped around the small of her back to balance her. He’s able to pull her leggings down to her ankles before setting her back down gently on the counter. Clarke watches him, eyes big and lustful as he removes her pants from her ankles, discarding them somewhere on the floor.

Bellamy lowers himself down to be eyelevel with her cunt. Her panties are pretty in pink, lacey and inviting. Bellamy salivates at the sight, forcing himself to tear his gaze away from them to meet her eyes.

“This okay, baby?” Bellamy asks, hooking his fingers along the waistband of her panties.

Clarke nods eagerly. “Yes. Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please take off my panties, baby.”

Bellamy nearly growls, dragging her panties down to her ankles. Clarke leans back on her palms, hoisting her feet up to the edge of the counter to give Bellamy full access to her. He splays his hands across the inside of her thighs, getting a feel for her flesh in his hand. Staring down at her cunt, ready and inviting him, Bellamy leans in, pressing a long kiss against her clit.

Clarke moans out, fishing her hands into the curls of his hair. Bellamy doesn’t give her time to adjust, flicking his tongue against her clit. He brings his hands to the back of her thighs, stuffing his face into her cunt. Clarke cries out, tightening her grip on his hair, and bucking her hips up to meet his mouth.

“Oh, fuck, Bellamy,” Clarke cries. “Fuck, _fuck_.”

“You like that, baby?” Bellamy pauses for a second, looking up at her. He smoothens his tongue over his lips to continue tasting her, watching her through half-lidded eyes. He squeezes at her thigh. “Look at me.”

Clarke whimpers, but finds the strength to look down at him. She’s sweaty, and out of breath, but locks eyes with him.

“Good girl,” Bellamy praises. “You feel good, baby?”

She nods, “You make me feel so good.”

“You want me to make you come?”

“Mm-hm.”

Bellamy smirks, pressing a quick kiss to her pelvic bone. “You’re doing so good.” He ducks his head down back in between her thighs, licking a long stripe up her cunt. Clarke shudders against him. He resumes his pace, flicking his tongue rapidly against her clit, moving his hands away from her thighs so that he can sink two of his fingers into her.

“Bellamy, baby,” Clarke mewls.   
  


“Hm?” Bellamy hums against her cunt, never once lessening his pace.

“I’m almost there.”

Bellamy keeps a steady pace, but forces himself to look up at her, no matter how uncomfortable he may be. He wants to watch her come, wants to be able to see her face when she comes because of him and him only.

Every bit of her tastes heavenly, feels just the same. He greedily laps at her cunt, like it’s the last time he’ll ever be able to, because Lord knows when the expiration date on them is. He yearns to memorize her taste, memorize that way she forms around his fingers, cement every little detail of her in his mind while he can.

A bitter part of him thinks about how this all started. Octavia and Clarke may be at war, but Atom’s the one who started _this_. A fury inside Bellamy ignites. All he wants, all is needs, is for her to come, for her to feel better than she’s ever felt before, better than anyone’s ever attempted to make her feel. He’s going to be the one to make her feel anything close to this good, it’s only going to be him, it’s only ever going to be him.

Clarke bucks her hips up to meet his mouth once more, close to the edge. Bellamy can feel her cunt tightening around his fingers, aches to feel all of her wetness in his mouth forever, but knows she’s close. She groans out loudly, her orgasm washing over her. Bellamy keeps his fingers in her and his mouth on her, riding out her orgasm, ensuring she enjoys herself.

“Fuck,” Clarke breathes out. Bellamy stands to his feet, and Clarke instantly grabs him by the scruff of his shirt to bring him in for a long kiss. _Fuck_. “You’re really good at that.”

Bellamy smirks. “That help with the stress?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

She’s trying to catch her breath, chest heaving up and down erratically. Bellamy takes pity on her, if only because he loves seeing her breathless because of him. He takes her in his arms, and she wraps her legs around his torso immediately, like a reflex.

“Come on, baby,” Bellamy murmurs. “Rest before the cupcakes are ready.”

Clarke smiles tiredly, nuzzling her nose against his. “You’re too good to me.”

The pang in his chest returns. He forces a smile anyways, pressing a greedy kiss to her lips, before leading them out of the kitchen and into her living room.

They settle onto the couch, Clarke wrapping herself into Bellamy’s embrace. He holds her as she falls asleep, listening to the soft beat of her heart and drum of her breath. She sleeps, but he doesn’t, can’t, finding himself watching her nap as her chest rises up and down slowly. He tries to ingrain the image into his memory, yearning to be mesmerized by everything she is for as long as he can be.

* * *

That Monday, Octavia shows up to school with store-bought cupcakes, and sets up her stand directly across from Clarke. She twiddles her fingers at Bellamy and Clarke, a sickly sweet smile on her face, as she stands behind her own table.

“I should have kept the cupcake thing under wraps,” Clarke grimaces.

Bellamy spots Finn nabbing a cupcake from Octavia’s table, only for his sister to swat at his hand. She rips the cupcake from her boyfriend’s grip, handing it to a classmate that passes by.

The sing-song of her voice echoes through the hall. “Vote Octavia and Finn for Homecoming King and Queen!”

“Homemade is always the better way to go,” Bellamy offers with a smile, placing his hand on the small of Clarke’s back.

Raven scoffs from the other side of Clarke, swirling her tongue around the icing of her friend’s homemade cupcake. “That’s just what poor people say.”

“You’re not exactly the richest person in the world, Raven,” Bree hisses.

“No, but I’m honest.”

Bellamy would stare daggers at Raven if he could, but it’s not like she would be offended. She shrugs, taking another bite of the cupcake. Clarke’s shoulders slump, despite Bree’s comforting pat on the shoulder, casting her stare out to Octavia’s table. Finn, now standing idly by Octavia’s side, is visibly bored as his girlfriend enthusiastically thrusts cupcakes into people’s face. Bellamy’s got to admire his sister’s spunk.

As students come and go, Bellamy notices Atom round the corner. He narrows his eyes as Atom lifts his head, the boy quickly ducking it to avoid Bellamy’s gaze. Octavia notices him, too, nervously glancing at Bellamy, silently begging him not to say anything. He reserves himself, if only for Octavia and Clarke, as Atom speeds by both of the campaign tables, not taking a cupcake from either side.

“Atom!” Clarke calls after him. He just keeps walking, disappearing around the corner. “What’s up with him lately? I feel like I haven’t spoken to him in weeks.”

Murmurs of incoherent thoughts litter amongst the table. Clarke seems more puzzled than hurt, staring after Atom. Bellamy can’t help the burn that ignites in his chest, knowing exactly why Atom isn’t speaking to Clarke. Because of his own threats. In Bellamy’s defense, Atom deserved all that and a lot more for what he did to his sister. Clarke may have hand her hand whatever happened between them, too, but she wasn’t the one in the committed relationship. He was.

With Atom out of the way, it’s one less problem Bellamy has to deal with. He doesn’t need scum like that around his sister, or around his girlfriend. They’re both better off without him, and the sooner they realize that, the better. Granted, it’s not like he’s the best for Clarke, but he intends to be until he no longer can be.

Clarke brushes it off, returning back to her cupcake stand. She tries to steal a trick from Octavia’s book, enthusiastically shoving cupcakes in people’s faces. The difference between her and Octavia, however, is that his sister is forceful and mean. If she says to take a cupcake, they take one, unless they don’t value their life. Clarke asks instead of demands, which doesn’t seem to be working in her favor as people easily slip past her.

He sighs, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Clarke’s cheek. “I’m sure sales will pick up, baby.”

Clarke gives him a tight lipped smile. “I hope so. Now go.”

Bellamy gives her one final quick kiss, to which his sister audibly makes gagging noises. He glares at Octavia, but chooses not to say anything. He’s not supposed to be picking sides here. He leaves the two of them at their designated cupcake tables, heading down the hall to head into his next class.

Jasper rounds the corner, evidently in a hurry and not looking at where he’s going. He collides with Bellamy, nearly tumbling to the ground if it wasn’t for the Blake’s quick reflexes. Bellamy grabs a hold of Jasper’s arm, hoisting him up before he drops to the ground in front of all of their peers. Jasper jolts upward with a vigor, glancing around like he’s on steroids.

“What’s wrong with you?” Bellamy huffs.

“I heard there were cupcakes,” Jasper breathes. “Who has them?”

“Octavia and Clarke,” Bellamy replies simply. Jasper stares down the hall, catching sight of the two’s campaign tables full of cupcakes. It’s like he’s stumbled upon the holy grail, and he takes one step towards them, before Bellamy grabs him by the collar of his shirt and pulls him back. “Hold on, Jas. Take one from Clarke.”

“Clarke is my friend, Bellamy, of course I’m going to support her,” Jasper states, like it was just so obvious. But then his longing stare returns to the Blake sister. “But Octavia has my heart.”

“Well, you don’t have hers.” Bellamy scowls in irritation. “Besides, Clarke is struggling. Help her out a bit.”

“Come on, Bellamy, you know it’s your sister I should be helping,” Jasper groans. “Clarke is basically guaranteed to win since you guys started hooking up.”

Bellamy’s lips tighten, staring back out at the campaign tables. Octavia is continuing to shove cupcakes in people’s faces, even recruiting Finn to use whatever intimidating skills he learned in football to coerce people into buying from her. Clarke’s chosen to reserve herself behind the table, hoping her sweet words and expressions are enough to woo the students of Arkadia High. To Bellamy, it seems to be about an even match, with Octavia having only slightly more customers at her table if only because of her aggressiveness.

He sees the way their classmates look at Octavia as opposed to Clarke. Clarke’s popular, and well-liked by everyone at the school. But Octavia is a vengeance, a power that people are afraid to betray. Roma was a lot like that, someone people wanted to be, granted was just a bit more sultry than his sister. It’s him that is aiding Clarke’s conquest to Homecoming Queen. She’s tamed the man-whore of the school, and that’s got to mean something.

It almost slips his mind really. Him dating Clarke is giving her the extra edge she needs, as much as he hates to admit it. He stares back at Octavia, switching between glaring furiously at Clarke before slapping a plastic façade of bubbliness across her face. All of this is making Clarke more popular than she already had been. Which is odd, considering that seemed like the last thing Octavia would ever want.

Jasper’s boisterous voice disrupts Bellamy from his thinking. He turns his gaze down the hall, Jasper having planted himself in between Clarke and Octavia’s table. In one hand, is one of Clarke’s homemade cupcakes while Octavia’s store bought one is in the other. He manages to take a bite of both of them at the same, smothering his face in icing.

“See, Bellamy!” Jasper calls out with a mouth full of mix-matched cupcakes, “I can do both!”

Bellamy grimaces. If only it were that easy.

* * *

Bellamy’s sprawled across her bed, head propped up against the bedframe as Clarke lays her stomach flat on the mattress, pencils scratching against the sketchbook. He loves watching her like this. Hugging his varsity jacket to her while her pencil dances across the page, creating something so intricate and realistic Bellamy feels like it’ll pop out of the page.

The amount of time he’s spending with Clarke is a recipe for disaster, he knows. Octavia’s on his ass about it, but he honestly could care less. In the weeks since their ‘relationship’ started, Bellamy hasn’t been more secure about anything else. And if all of this is only temporary, he’s going to soak in every bit of it while he still can.

His hand comes up to the back of her leg, stroking her skin lightly. Clarke hums in affection, and Bellamy keeps a steady pace on her skin. He swirls his thumb around the back of her leg while his hand grips her skin firmly. The softness of her skin soothes his own, as he gazes at her draw from just a couple inches away.

Clarke is another entity when she creates. There’s a simplicity, yet a focus to her that is evident in her features, in the way she conducts herself. Bellamy admires the way she zeroes into a work, yet acknowledges his touches of comfort. His curiosity gets the better of him, as he crawls over to Clarke, lying flat on his stomach himself. He nuzzles his head into her neck, planting soft kisses that trail up to her cheek before gazing back down at her drawing.

“It looks beautiful,” Bellamy breathes. It’s a vast plain, decorated by the night stars and bright lights of what appear to be the stadium lights. “Is that the football field?”

“Yeah,” Clarke admits sheepishly. “Kind of had it stuck on my mind lately.”

“Hm, yeah? Because of your favorite Superstar?”

Clarke laughs, melodic and hearty, and Bellamy breaks out into a grin. She swivels her head to him, smiling. “Well, there’s that.”

Bellamy’s stare lingers on her for a little too longer than it should. “Is there something else?”

Clarke’s smile teeters a bit. Bellamy frowns as Clarke’s gaze glances back at the drawing, a sad twinge to her dampened smile. She lightly drops her pencil to the side of her sketchbook, fingers ghosting over the page in admiration. Bellamy finds himself mesmerized by her, watching her every movement intently.

“My dad used to play, in high school.” Clarke smiles sadly. “He would take me here on the weekends, just to throw the ball around.”

Bellamy balances his chin on her shoulder, peering up at her. “I’m sorry. I know you must miss him.”

“I do. And I know he’d like you,” Clarke swivels her around to peer at him, her face inches away from him. “That’s what makes me miss him more, you know? That he’s missing everything.”

“You’re still making him proud, even though he’s not here.” Bellamy points out. “You’re so smart, and you have a kind heart. Who wouldn’t be proud of someone like you?”

Clarke rolls her eyes playfully, “My mother.”

“That makes two of us,” Bellamy groans, rolling over onto his back.

Curiously, Clarke crawls over to him. She smoothens her hands over his chest, balancing her chin on his collarbone. He wraps his arm around her lower back, holding her steady against him. Sometimes, he just likes to gaze at her, admire Clarke for all that she is. Her strength, her intelligence, her beauty, everything about her amazes him. She could dazzle anyone being who she is, and yet, here she is curled up with him.

She lays her cheek against his cheek, staring up at him. “Absent mothers are just the best, aren’t they?”

Bellamy chuckles dryly. “They’re a hoot.”

“I don’t think my mom knows who I am,” Clarke thinks aloud. “She thinks I’m still going to into Pre-Med.”

“That would be a waste of your talent,” Bellamy states bluntly. “Especially when you’re heart isn’t in it.”

“It’s a lot more practical than art school.”

“Maybe. But who cares about practicality? Look at us.”

Clarke shakes her head, a fond smile dancing across her face. “We are an odd match.”

Bellamy traces circles on her lower back, relishing in the softness of her skin. She stares up at him like he’s captured the stars and brought them down to her. If only he were half the human she thought he was. If only he could ever be that perfect for her.

“I don’t think we’re so odd,” Bellamy says softly.

Clarke leans up, pecking his nose. “No. Not so odd. We have the absent mothers to show for it.” They both quiet, Clarke’s fingers finding his cheek. They ghost down lightly, and Bellamy shivers under her touch. “You’re one for practicality, you know.”

Bellamy scoffs, turning her over in one swift movement. Clarke yelps in surprise, but that soon morphs into a fit of giggles as Bellamy attacks her neck with kisses. She wraps her legs around his torso and arms around his, just to get a grip of him, but he’s still stronger. He towers over her, trying to distract her with a slew of kisses.

It doesn’t work, as her hands come up to his shoulders, gently drawing him back a bit. “I’m serious. If your relationship with Octavia is anything to show for it.”

He peers down at Clarke, her hair sprawled against the mattress, so simple yet so beautiful, his heart nearly skips a beat. “What are you on now, princess?”

Clarke sits up, balancing on her elbows as she looks up at him. They’re a couple inches away now, noses just barely brushing together. But she stares at him with a purpose, an intensity that he sees really only when she’s in the classroom or working on their assignment. There’s a hint of adoration in her eyes, one that he takes solace in.

“You could go anywhere in this country,” Clarke approaches slowly. “And if you could, you’d choose Arkadia U. For Octavia.”

Bellamy purses his lips together, drawing back from sitting back on his heels. Clarke scrambles to her feet, fearing she’s struck a nerve. His face is blank, the mood always ruined when his sister is mentioned, but he can see Clarke is gearing up towards a more intense conversation. She takes a deep breath, and Bellamy just sits, something about her compelling him to listen.

“You have so much to offer the world, Bellamy.” Clarke says. “You have one of the top grades in your graduating class, and you’re reputation with football basically guarantees you a spot at some of the best schools.” His lips form a tight line. “And you’re choosing to stay back for Octavia.”

“Remember what we said about absent mothers?” Bellamy points out. “In the past month, I’ve seen my mother maybe a grand total of three times. She’s back home late from a night out, but always up early enough to get to her shift on time.”

Clarke quiets, placing her hands in her lap. He doesn’t mean to hurt her feelings, but he’s never really expressed this to anyone. Nobody’s cared enough to ask or point it out, and he’s pent up his emotions long enough to know how to keep them sheltered. But with Clarke, he feels safe, able to tell her about anything and anyone without judgement.

“I’m all Octavia has. She’s all _I_ have,” Bellamy huffs.

Clarke climbs over to him. “You have me.”

_Not for long_ , Bellamy chides to himself. Clarke’s hands come up to cup his cheeks, and her touch is so light, so delicate, and he doesn’t fucking deserve it. It hits him then, how stupid all of this is. For him to think he could have it both ways until he can’t, as if that wouldn’t make it all hurt more once this is all over. He’s the only one fucking anybody over here.

“I have to go,” he announces abruptly, moving out of her grasp and climbing off the bed.

Clarke stands to her feet as Bellamy scrambles for his jacket. “Bellamy, Octavia doesn’t realize how special you are, okay? And she probably never will. But these schools–”

“They’re just schools,” Bellamy mutters, throwing his jacket over his shoulders. “My sister comes first. Always.”

“God, Bellamy, she’s terrible. I see how she talks to you–”

“She’s just blunt–”

“You can’t keep defending her–”

Bellamy swirls around to face Clarke, a fire in his eyes scarily similar to the one his sister carries. “I told you not to bring up my sister, Clarke. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” Clarke agrees with a hurried nod. “But you can’t throw your life away for her. Not when she wouldn’t do the same for you.”

“She doesn’t have to do the same for me. That’s not why I do this,” Bellamy exclaims. “I’m her brother, I’m supposed to take care of her.”

“She’s more than capable of–”

“You don’t know _what_ she’s capable of! She’s _my_ sister.”

Clarke is taken a back, her eyes widened. She sews her lips shut, pursing them into a tight line. His heart cracks, looking at her so small and quiet after he’s raised his voice to her. The last thing he wants is to harm her, and yet their whole relationship surrounds around doing just that. None of this is real, at least it’s not supposed to be. Although, nothing has ever felt more real to Bellamy than this very moment.

He knows he doesn’t deserve to have Clarke this. Not when he’s not with her for the right reasons, not when he eventually has to dump her, publicly and make a fool out of her. Bellamy’s thinking about approaching it with Octavia, discussing a more private letdown. Their breakup will be enough for Clarke to lose votes, enough for Octavia to win. He assumes it’s not going to go well, though, not with Octavia’s state of mind.

Bellamy’s not blind to who his sister is. He knows she’s outlandish, and can be cruel. He’s grown up with her, practically raised her. But at the end of the day, she’s the only person he’s ever had by his side. He’ll crawl to the ends of the Earth just to do that for her, and more. Whatever she asks, whatever she needs for him, it’s his responsibility as her big brother to fulfill it.

It’s stupid, Bellamy is aware. His loyalty to his sister, however, is unmatched with anything. It overpowers everything and everyone, no matter how much he doesn’t want it to. He wishes he could turn it off, find an equal balance between Octavia and Clarke, but that’s just not what this will ever be.

Clarke takes a deep breath, walking over to the door, and opening it wide for him. “I hope for your sake, that you’re right and I’m wrong.”

It hits him then, staring at the open door, and over-analyzing Clarke’s words. He stares out at the hallway and then back at her. “Do you know something I don’t?”

That takes Clarke by surprise, but she quickly recovers, putting that mask over her face. She’s. not quick enough, though. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bellamy steps closer, and his mind is racing. “Clarke, whatever you know, you need to fucking tell me. This is my sister we’re talking about.”

Clarke purses her lips shut, casting her gaze downwards. She sighs shakily, forcing herself to look back up at him. He stares at her pleadingly, begging her silently to tell him whatever it is he’s missing here. There’s got to be something, someone, anything that’s not clicking. It doesn’t make sense, his mind going a-wire.

Bellamy thinks back to what Clarke said at the party. _Honestly Bellamy, I feel bad for you_. Atom, a couple of weeks ago in the changeroom. _Bellamy, I think Octavia is lying to you_. Jasper just a few days ago when they were selling cupcakes. _Clarke is basically guaranteed to win since you guys started hooking up_.

All contradictions of what his sister has lead him to believe. Octavia is the number one person in his life, has been since the day she was born. He’s questioned her behavior before, sure, but never in accordance with him. They’re each other’s best confidant, it’s only been the two of them for so long. He doesn’t know what to think, doesn’t know how to think if it’s not in association with his sister.

Clarke doesn’t say anything, and he can’t take the silence. Bellamy strides out of the room, desperate for a breath of air and to get these thoughts out of his pounding head.

* * *

Bellamy intends to walk from the parking lot of Arkadia High to the football field, just to throw the ball around and clear his head. He doesn’t want to think about what all of this means, doesn’t want to go home and face his sister. He just needs to be alone, get some air, as the brisk night sky welcomes him with a cool chill.

“Bellamy!”

Glancing over his shoulder, Bellamy’s less than happy to see Roma jogging towards him with a bright smile. “Roma? What are you doing here?”

“I love being here,” Roma shrugs. Bellamy resists the urge to wince. He can’t imagine peaking in high school like her. “Plus, Arkadia High has the best field to practice my cheerleading routine.” He’s sure she can do that anywhere, positive when she adds, “Want to see my stretch?”

Bellamy just stares at her blankly, not in the mood for anything that she has to offer. Even if he was, he would only want to be with Clarke, not with whatever offer Roma seems to think is so tempting. Her eyebrows furrow together in confusion, as if she can’t piece together why he isn’t saying anything, when realization dawns.

“Oh. Are you still with Clarke?” Roma tilts her head to the side.

“Yeah,” Bellamy deadpans. “I am.”

“Hm. I thought you would have got bored by now.”

He doesn’t say anything. Not sure what would be a satisfying answer.

The cool air whisks by the both of them, sending a chill through Bellamy’s spine. All he wants to do is go out onto the field and clear his head for a bit, but now with Roma around, that’s the last thing he yearns for. He wishes he stayed with Clarke, cuddled up to her, and forgot about this whole mess with Octavia. Fuck, he wishes that none of this shit with Octavia and her fucking plan even existed.

“Honestly, I’m surprised Octavia even let you date her,” Roma puffs out a laugh. “Especially after everything with Clarke and Atom.”

Bellamy furrows his eyebrows, confusion soon morphing into realization. His eyes widen, and he takes a step closer to Atom. “Clarke told you what happened between them?”

“I told her,” Roma scoffs. “But I guess she told Atom.”

The confusion returns, seeping into Bellamy’s brain and poisoning everything he thought he knew. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I was at Arkadia High the day she told Atom,” Roma states, like it should be obvious, hands on her hips. “And I showed her pictures–”

“Pictures? Pictures of what?”

Roma’s hands dangle at her sides, tilting her head in confusion as well. He really doesn’t need both of them to be confused, not when all of this is already driving him crazy. Realization seems to dawn on Roma, thankfully, and she fishes her phone out of her back pocket. Her nails tap against the keyboard, resonating nauseatingly in Bellamy’s ears.

“Of your sister, and that college guy,” Roma clarifies. She holds out the phone to him. “Lincoln. He’s in my geography class. Super hot.”

_Lincoln?_

Bellamy leans forward, squinting at the screen, and sure enough that is his sister. Draped over someone, presumably Lincoln’s, lap. Her hands are around his neck and her lips are attached to his, a deep, passionate kiss. They look quite comfortable with each other, Octavia basically immersed into his embrace when he supports her by her ass. Bellamy scrunches up his nose in disgust.

They seem to be at a party, with a plethora of people littered in the background. Octavia and Lincoln are perched on a couch, entangled in one another, like they’re the only two in the world. It seems they must have thought that, too, consider that neither of them broke apart when Roma took this picture. They must not have even noticed.

“When was this?” Bellamy demands to know.

Roma’s surprised with the anger in his tone, but replies calmly. “Over the summer. First frat party before the school semester. I don’t know Octavia heard about it–”

Bellamy stops listening, turns around and walks directly to his car.

* * *

Bellamy bolts through the door, feet stomping against the floor. It’s late, and she could be sleeping – Bellamy hopes she is, hopes he wakes her up with the utter rage that he’s in. His vision is blurry, clouded by the lies and the deceit and everything he’s been fooled by. He doesn’t even know what he’s going to do, what he’s going to say, until he finds his sister sitting idly in the living room.

“You’re the one who cheated on Atom.”

Octavia doesn’t even look up from her phone. She’s curled up on the couch, legs tucked under her, swiping on God knows what. She must have heard him, his voice booming and echoing off the walls. Yet, she barely even acknowledges that he’s there. Fuming, Bellamy takes another step into the room, nostrils flaring.

“Octavia!” Bellamy bellows.

His sister sighs deeply, glancing up from her phone in irritation. “Is that what Clarke told you? That skank knows how to run her mouth. She doesn’t even have proof–”

“Clarke didn’t tell me shit, Roma did. And showed me a bunch of pictures to prove it.”

Octavia’s face falls then. She’s been caught, with photographic evidence and word of mouth to prove it. Everything happens in slow motion then. She slowly drops the phone face down on the couch, swinging her legs off of the cushion. Bellamy stands, chest heaving up and down, nothing but powerless as he watches his sister approach him with caution. It’s all surreal, and even as her mouth opens, Bellamy’s not sure he’s registering any of this correctly.

“Clarke never slept with Atom, did she?” Bellamy accuses with a rasp in his voice. There’s a pause, and Octavia screws her mouth shut. “Roma was at school the day of Jasper’s party, showed Clarke the pictures. And she showed them to Atom at the party.”

That part, Bellamy had pieced together on his own. Judging by the gob-smacked look sprawled across Octavia’s face, it’s fair to say that he got it right. His shoulders slump, a breath of defeat emitting from his lips. Hot, angry tears pool in his eyes, for exactly what or who, he’s not sure. It’s one thing for his sister to lie to him, another to make up this whole elaborate story just to save herself from criticism. And then there’s Clarke, who he’s been deceiving under the pretense that she hurt his sister.

Clarke never hurt anybody. She was a friend to Atom, exposed the truth about Octavia, only for her to get this in the end. A boyfriend who’s pretending to date her just so his sister can win Homecoming Queen, and to get revenge for something that didn’t even happen. He can’t believe how stupid he was, almost as much as he is in disbelief that his sister could be so cruel for no apparent reason.

“I–It was one time,” Octavia defends, as if that makes a difference. “Clarke ruined my relationship over one, little mistake–”

“One little mistake?” Bellamy growls, taking one, harsh step towards his sister. “That’s bullshit. That wasn’t the only time you saw him, right? When Atom and I weren’t picking you up from school, who was?”

That’s another part he figured out on his own. All of Octavia’s little lies, things that he overlooked because sometimes, she’s just so brash, so outlandish, that he didn’t need to question her. Everything is dawning on him now, on the drive home, on the walk up the driveway, the stride into the living room. She didn’t need rides home from cheer practice, even though Bellamy nor Atom were around to drive her home. She never mentioned what friends she was going to the mall with after school.

Octavia screws her mouth shut once more. There’s not enough air in his chest to breath, not enough matter in his brain to absorb the person that stands before him. This is his sister, someone who he’d put his life on the line for in a heartbeat. Yet, it’s like he’s staring at a complete stranger, someone who’s bent him to her will in order to get what she wants. He’s been so used to being her punching bag over the years, that he hadn’t even noticed everything she’d been orchestrating.

Bellamy can’t look at her any longer. He scrubs his hand over his face, relishing in the callouses on his palm, just trying to feel something. Swiveling around on his heel, Bellamy begins to stride out of the living room, knowing he won’t be able to calm down by standing here for much longer.

“Bellamy, wait!” Octavia’s voice cracks as she calls out to him. She scrambles in front of him, placing her hands flat against his chest to hold him in place. Now, she’s the one crying. “I can explain–”

“You texted me that you were taking a walk with Atom at that party. But you weren’t with him, were you? You were with Lincoln,” Bellamy snarls, another piece of the puzzle falling right before him.

“Y–yes, Lincoln came to say hi, but I was going to end it–” Octavia stammers.

“You came back to the party, found Clarke and Atom in Jasper’s room. She already told him. He broke up with you.”

“He did, but he left with Clarke before I could try to talk to him–”

“You were crying because you lost him. Not because of Clarke.”

“Bellamy, please–”

“And we came home, you sobbed in my lap on this fucking couch, and told me _lies_ for _what_ , Octavia?!”

Bellamy’s been annoyed with his sister, upset and definitely angry, but this is a new side to him that even he hadn’t discovered. Octavia stands back in surprise. Bellamy’s never even raised his voice at her, especially not to this extreme. He’s never quite felt betrayal like this, and yet all he can think about is how Clarke would feel if she knew the truth. That he did all of this for someone and something that wasn’t even true.

Tears run down Octavia’s cheeks, and Bellamy can’t even bring himself to feel bad. Every tear seems like those of a crocodile now. He thinks back to her sobbing on his lap on this couch, weeks ago, feels even more foolish for actually believing them. Everything in these past couple of weeks that come to mind, everything Octavia’s said to him about Atom, Clarke, playing the victim.

He wonders how much of the past couple of years have been a lie. If anything he’s ever heard about Clarke Griffin from his sister’s mouth was true. If he wasted years of his life hating the girl he’s come to love so quickly. _Love_. He loves Clarke, and it’s all built on the foundation of a lie. That infuriates him more.

“Why start any of this with Clarke?” Bellamy demands. “Why even make me date her if you knew it was going to make her more popular?” Octavia stays quiet, purposefully. “Because you knew when I dumped her, not only would her popularity plummet, but her heart would break.”

“She broke mine!” Octavia bursts out, a livid scream erupting from her lips. “She had no business in telling Atom anything! It was over, and she ruined my life!”

“You did that all on your own,” Bellamy chuckles darkly, no humor to his tone. “And you know how I know that? Because if you thought you were right, you would have told me the _truth_.”

“I didn’t want you to think of me differently,” Octavia lowers her voice, something timid and uncharacteristic sounding from it. “I was embarrassed, okay? I fucked up–”

“Bullshit. You knew I wouldn’t be a part of this fucking plan if I knew the truth.”

“That’s not it! You wouldn’t have understood–”

An overwhelming feeling of anger washes over Bellamy, eyes flashing fire. “I am _always_ on your side, Octavia! My life revolves around you! It always has! And you took advantage of that, you _lied to me_ –”

The tears return, Octavia weeping now, “I’m sorry, big brother. I should have told you the truth–”

She rambles on about how scared she was, how furious she was with Clarke, how much she missed Atom, how she didn’t want to disappoint her big brother and all Bellamy can hear is _me, me, me_. That’s all it ever is with Octavia. The world revolves around her, and everyone else is supposed to bend to her every wish and desire. Bellamy’s been doing just that since she was born.

He’s so sick of it. So tired of his world being Octavia’s, for giving up things he wants in order for her to thrive. Nothing in his life has ever been for him and for him only. Good grades, to get into any school, so he can choose Arkadia U and stay close to Octavia. Football, to get a scholarship, so he doesn’t have to pay for school and Octavia can use the leftover money for her own college fund. No serious girlfriends, no real friends, so all his time can be catered to Octavia.

And now, when he finally finds someone that allows him to be himself, to flourish on his own accord – Octavia’s ripped it away before it even starts. She’s in the middle of her self-pity speech when Bellamy interrupts.

“This is over,” Bellamy blurts out. Octavia pauses, peering at him curiously. “This plan, this pretend relationship with Clarke, it’s over.”

Octavia narrows her eyes, any sadness she was feeling seeming to dissipate into her natural state; irritation and anger. “What do you mean it’s over? You’re going to dump her now?”

“No,” Bellamy deadpans. “I’m not dumping her. I’m staying with her.”

His sister tries not to come off as angry as she is, but she fails to appear calm. “Listen, Bellamy, I get that you’re upset, but–”

Bellamy takes a step away from her. This conversation is over. He’s made up his mind. He may have lost his sister, but that’s not anybody’s fault but her own. His whole life, he’s done everything he can to cater to her, to make sure she’s okay. She’s taken advantage of that. Now it’s his turn to be the selfish Blake.

Things with Clarke may not have been real at first, but they are now. Now, everything can be real, and he doesn’t need to feel that pang of guilt whenever he’s with her. He can enjoy being with Clarke, being in love with her, being with her without the constant threat of Octavia Blake looming over his head. Whatever heartbreak his sister caused him may never be repaired, but this may be the first and last chance he has to live for himself.

“I mean it, Octavia,” Bellamy shakes his head, a breath of a laugh emitting from his lips. Relief settles into his chest. “This plan of yours, it’s done. I’m done.”

Octavia strides after him, any façade of calmness slipping into anger with a blink of his eye. “You told me you didn’t feel anything for Clarke. You told me it wasn’t real!”

“Well, I guess you’re not the only one who can lie.” Bellamy sneers, staring down at his sister with a sinister smirk. “I want to be with Clarke. I’m going to be with her.”

He tries to turn around to walk away, but Octavia catches him by the wrist. She spins him around, a fury in her eyes that has never been present for her brother before. There’s a break, a severe crack in the Blake relationship that Bellamy fears they’ll never repair. It hangs between them, holding on by thread and he has the urge to cut it in half.

“She’ll win,” Octavia hisses. “If you don’t dump her before Homecoming, she’ll win.”

Bellamy yanks his wrist out of his sister’s grasp and takes a step backwards. He stares at his sister, someone he still loves so dearly, someone he’ll still sacrifice his life for without second guessing it. But his life stops centering around Octavia today, here, now.

“I guess you’ll just have to deal with second place,” Bellamy says.

He’s already halfway out the door when Octavia calls his name. Bellamy hesitates, just for a second, old habits already proving to be difficult to break. His sister has been his lifeline for so long, he’s not sure he’ll ever know how to fully function without her at the front and center of everything. Silence looms over them, and Bellamy takes a deep breath. He shuts the door behind him without another word from Octavia.

* * *

Clarke opens the door, already dressed in her pajamas. The sight brings a weak smile to Bellamy’s face. Her pink shorts, decorated with purple polka-dots and plain white tank top are more than welcoming, and Bellamy’s just grateful that the beat returns to his heart when his eyes land on her. She seems surprised to see him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Bellamy?” Clarke ponders. “What are you doing here? I thought–”

“I know what happened between Atom and Octavia,” Bellamy announces with a sad smile. It cracks the moment the words slip from his mouth, morphing into an unrestrainable frown. “I’m so sorry.”

She’ll never know to the extent of what he’s sorry for. She’ll never know how far Octavia’s plan got, she’ll never know about the plan’s existence in the first place. All she’ll know is that Octavia lied, and that he hadn’t known about Lincoln. That’ll be all she’ll ever need to know, because from this point on, he’s going to be the best real fucking boyfriend that Clarke Griffin could ever ask for.

Clarke sighs, taking him into her arms. He wraps his arms around her, sinking into her embrace and breathing heavily, trying to control the sob he wants to burst into. She leads him upstairs, and they curl into his bed, just holding onto one another. She’s pressed into his chest, his arms tucked around her waist, face nuzzled into her neck.

“I wanted to tell you,” Clarke says softly. “But it wasn’t my place. Octavia made me delete the pictures and Atom was so embarrassed–”

“No, I understand.” Bellamy murmurs against her skin. “I should have questioned Octavia a bit more.”

“She’s your sister,” Clarke says, swiveling her head around to stare at him. “I understand why you’d believe her first. You should. I shouldn’t have second guessed–”

Bellamy interrupts her with a sad smile. “I’m so done talking about my sister.” He leans in, brushing his lips against her nose. “I just want it to be you and me right now.”

Clarke gives him the softest smile, that he thinks his heart might implode. “Stay here tonight.”

He nuzzles his nose against hers, just so their lips can brush together. It’s a silent yes, one Bellamy takes solace in as Clarke turns back around and cuddles against him. He holds her that whole night, promising to himself that from this point on, everything with her is real. His relationship with her, his commitment to her and his love for her.

* * *

Staying the night turns into staying the weekend. Bellamy’s not ready to face Octavia, nor does he want to, and Clarke’s mother is out of town for a business trip. The weekend at Clarke’s is the most tranquil Bellamy’s felt in probably years, with no Octavia busting his ass or worrying about this pretend relationship crumbling at his feet. Everything’s falling into place, so much so Bellamy thinks it may be too good to be true.

Especially when he looks at Clarke – her blonde hair falling over her face in curtains, her eyebrows furrowed together in deep thought, the incessant pout formed on her lips. There’s nothing more peaceful than watching her, mesmerized by the way she moves amongst the world, or the way she speaks with such vigor. Clarke is the first person in his life that feels real, not using him for some sort of gain or gratification. He intends to hold onto her for as long as he possibly can.

Sunday night, at the end of their weekend together, Clarke’s curled into Bellamy’s lap, typing away at her laptop. The two of them have been productive, surprisingly, nearly finishing their project that’s due in the upcoming week. Bellamy speaks, Clarke chimes in, but insists on being the one to jot it down in their presentation. She’s faster at typing, she claims. It brings a smile to Bellamy’s face to see her concentrated, so he lets her have that one.

One final click, and Clarke breathes out a sigh of relief. “Oh my God. We’re done.”

Bellamy sits up straight, readjusting Clarke on his lap and peering at the screen. She scans through their document, and then their presentation. It’s full, and complete, and Bellamy feels the final weight being lifted off of his shoulders.

He likes to make a big show of things, just to see that beam of a grin stretch across her face. Bellamy swoops Clarke into his arms, nearly knocking her laptop off of her lap. He sets the laptop on the chair with one hand while carrying Clarke with another. She bursts into a fit of giggles, wrapping her legs around his torso and arms around his neck. He jumps for joy, another ploy to make her laugh, before crashing his lips against hers.

“Bellamy, stop!” Clarke murmurs against his lips, although she’s still giggling.

“This is cause for celebration,” Bellamy mutters against her mouth, grinning ear to ear. “Don’t you think, baby?”

Clarke draws back slightly, her grin turning into a soft smile as she gazes at him. He was going to suggest take out or something, but Clarke’s stare causes his throat to go dry. She reaches her hand up to his cheek, fingers dusting across his freckles. This time, he doesn’t shiver under her touch, just relishes in her skin against his.

“I love you,” Clarke blurts out, and it’s clear by the panic written across her face moments later that she hadn’t meant to say it. “I–I mean–”

“I love you, too,” Bellamy interjects. His heart is full, having Clarke in his arms, having Clarke for real. He lets a smirk grace his features. “I wanted to say it first.”

Clarke’s grin stretches across her face, and fuck, he swears it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen in his life. She leans in, lips brushing against his. “Well, looks like I beat you to it.”

Bellamy captures her lips in his, tongue slipping past her mouth. Clarke moans, holding onto him tighter as he guides her to the bed. He gently lays her down across the mattress, careful not to crush her while he climbs on top of her. Clarke’s feet are planted on the mattress, legs bent upward as Bellamy snakes himself between her, ensuring their lips fail to part from one another.

The overwhelming desire to touch her consumes him, as he brings his hand to her cheek. The softness of her cheek fits perfectly in the palm of his hand, and Clarke snuggles closer into his touch. Having her like this without the fear of having it ripped away from him is another feeling all together, too extraordinary for Bellamy to even compute. He just keeps kissing her, touching her, _being with her_.

Clarke sits up a bit, ensuring that her lips don’t detach from Bellamy’s. In one swift motion, she removes her tank top, already free from a bra. Bellamy nearly groans out at the sight, bringing one hand up to cup her flesh in the palm of his hand.

“Fuck, baby,” Bellamy removes his lips for just a moment, just to press a soft kiss on her nipple. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Bellamy surges up, mouth returning to hers. He snakes his hands down to her shorts, tugging on them a bit for permission. Clarke nods eagerly into his mouth, and he takes that as a cue to slide them down her thighs. She wiggles out of them, her shorts plopping on the floor just as Bellamy slips his fingers inside her panties that feel a lot like lace. Clarke gasps into his mouth when he sinks two fingers inside of her.

“Are you okay?” Bellamy mutters against her lips.

“I feel good,” Clarke breathes out. He steadies his pace inside of her, and she whimpers. “So good, Bellamy.”

He loves hearing her praise him. Bellamy’s dick hardens in his pants, and he forces himself to remove his lips from hers while still thrusting his fingers in and out of her, thumb circling her clit. He presses a kiss to her cheek, soft and reassuring, before he ducks his head back down to her chest.

Bellamy could marvel at her tits for hours if she’d let him. They fit perfectly in his palm, and are softer to touch. He brings his mouth down to one of her breasts, enclosing his mouth around the nipple, gaze flickering up to meet hers while his fingers continue to thrust in and out of her.

Clarke’s hand flies to the back of his head as she gasps out. “Oh, fuck. Bellamy, I love when you do that.”

“Do you, baby?” Bellamy teases, flicking his tongue against her nipple for a moment before switching to the neglected one. He presses the pad of his thumb harder against her clit, and she cries out. “Fuck, you’re amazing, baby.”

Gaining momentum, Bellamy detaches his lips from her nipples to sink down in between her legs. He quickens the pace of his fingers, thrusting with precision. He removes his thumb from her clit to hold aside her panties, bringing his mouth in replacement. Flicking his tongue rapidly against her clit, Clarke bucks her hips up to meet his mouth. Not that she needs to, when he’s practically sunk into her.

“Oh God, fuck,” Clarke whimpers. “Bellamy, I–”

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Bellamy murmurs.

Clarke’s cunt pulsates around his fingers, and she cries out in a loud moan. He would be arrogant about it, make a quip with his signature smirk, but he’s too absorbed in the sounds of her. It fills his chest with this overwhelming sense of accomplishment and pride, that he could make her feel this good. He slips his fingers out of her, slows his movements against her clit, tongue smoothening over her cunt as she rides out of her orgasm.

As Clarke catches her breath, Bellamy climbs back over her. He runs his fingers through her hairs, gazing down at her admiration. Her tired eyes flick up to meet his, a mixture of lust and love that makes Bellamy’s heart want to burst at the seams. He leans down and kisses her sweetly, before showering the rest of her face with soft pecks.

Clarke places her hands on his chest, gazing up at him. “I want to take you in my mouth.”

Bellamy gulps, his throat nearly closing. “You want that, baby?”

“So badly. I want your cock in my mouth _so badly_.”

Hearing her whimper for his cock, _in her mouth_ , is another type of heaven. Bellamy nods hurriedly, carefully cradling her into his arms. He switches their positions so that she’s on top of him, hiking his shirt above his head just to even the score. Clarke leans in for a kiss of reassurance, before sliding off the bed and sinking to her knees.

Clarke takes lead, unbuckling his pants with only a tiny struggle. He’d help her, but he’s too captured in having her between his legs. He manages to snap out of it enough to help her drag his pants down to his ankles, inevitably kicking them off his feet. Clarke stares at his boxers, with a quite noticeable bulge bulking through them.

She smoothens her hand over the fabric, and Bellamy swallows thickly. “Oh, baby. You’re so big.”

Bellamy’s usually an ace at dirty talk, but fuck, this girl makes his speechless. Clarke tugs down his boxers, just enough for his cock to spring loose. She licks her lips, eagerly wrapping her tiny hands around his large shaft.

He reaches out to grasp at her hair, lightly dusting his fingers through her locks before his hand drops to her face. His fingers creep up to her lips, tracing the outline of her mouth. Fuck, he loves touching her. Even she’s touching him, both of her hands wrapped around his shaft, all he wants to do is get his own hands on her.

Slowly, Clarke moves her hands up and down, opening her mouth slightly for Bellamy to slip his thumb inside. She sucks lightly on his thumb, keeping her steady pace on his cock, locking eyes with him dangerous. He groans out at the sight, at the feeling, of everything he gets to experience with her. _Fuck._

Clarke draws back, her thumb sliding from her mouth with a pop. She presses a light kiss to the pad of his thumb before brushing his hand to the side. In one fluid motion, she removes one hand from his cock and encloses her mouth around the tip. She flickers her tongue across it, testing the taste of him on her tongue. She’s almost not sure what to do next as she slides her mouth down his shaft, working him up with her hand.

“That’s it, baby,” Bellamy praises her, breathless. “Look at you.”

Bellamy leans back on his forearms, getting a perfect view of Clarke bobbing up and down on his cock. She’s tentative, and slow, but a master with her tongue. She swirls her tongue around his tip whenever she comes up, licks down his shaft when she goes back to the base of him. Poor girl tries to take all of him in her mouth.

Clarke pulls away from him, still holding his cock in her hand. She stares up at him, “Bellamy. I want to try something else.”

Bellamy assumes she’s tired, already scrambling up to collect her in his arms. Hold her and soothe her to sleep, like they have been for the past two nights in a row. But she stops him, holding her hand out to keep him in place. Bellamy stills, and Clarke reaches her hand out to his, intertwining their fingers.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Bellamy soothes, rubbing his thumb softly against her knuckles.

“Nothing, nothing,” Clarke shakes her head, but her voice is timid. “I want – I want you to fuck me.”

He almost comes right there and then. “Are – are you sure?”

Clarke nods. “Please, Bellamy. I want it to be with you.”

Bellamy’s a bit confused, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. He hoists her up gently by her hand, pulling her up into his lap. Clarke straddles his lap, hands carefully draped around his neck. Her panties and the boxers half-down his thigh are the only barriers between the two of them. He aches at the thought of him ridding of both garments, having all of her just like this.

“You haven’t – you haven’t done this before?” Bellamy whispers, resting his forehead against hers.

“No,” Clarke admits sheepishly. “My girlfriend and I last year, we did a couple things. But never…”

She trails off. Bellamy reaches his hand up, brushing his hand against her cheek. He moves her hair out of her face and behind her ear, just taking in the full view of her. Having all of her is a gift Bellamy never thought he would have. It’s almost a miracle having her here like this at all, after everything he’s done. But now he has a second chance and he wants to do this right.

“I don’t have a condom,” Bellamy confesses.

“I’m on birth control,” Clarke says.

“And you’re sure? You want this?”

“I want you. I love you.”

Bellamy brings her in for a heated kiss, hands sprawled across her back. His cock twitches against her cunt. She holds onto him as he drags his boxers down to his ankles, kicking them off so that he’s completely bare. He cradles her as he trudges across the bed, laying her in the middle, ensuring that she’s comfortable. She sinks into the mattress, staring up with doe-eyes, such admiration and love.

He ducks down to kiss her softly as Clarke repositions her legs on either side of her hips. His hand glides down her thigh, gripping her flesh in his palm. Her hands come up to either side of his face, cradling him as their lips lock, a silent vow.

Bellamy rests his forehead against hers, his lips brushing along her mouth. “I love you, too.”

With his whole heart, Bellamy means it. He’s never felt this way before, this full, this complete not only in himself but in anyone. Being with Clarke has been like having his whole self, no longer missing any pieces. He’s whole, and with her, there’s nothing more he could ever want.

Bellamy positions the head of his cock along her entrance, eyes flicking up to meets hers. She stares down at him nervously, biting down on her lower lip. He’s throbbing, but his heart is beating just as fast. Before he can open his mouth to say anything, ask if this is okay, tell her it’s okay if she’s changed her mind, Clarke interrupts him.

“Please, Bellamy,” Clarke pleads. “Make love to me.”

He’s never made love to anyone before. The thought makes him crazy; this will be a first for the both of them.

Bellamy nods, giving her one last kiss for reassurance. He goes slow, sliding inside of her inch by inch. She winces, trying to adjust to the stretch of him, attempting to not cry out in pain and alarm him. Bellamy watches her carefully, edging into her slowly.

“Hey,” Bellamy places his hand on her cheek. “I’m right here. You can tell me to stop.”

“No, I don’t want you to stop,” Clarke tells him. “Just – slow.”

Slow. He can do slow. Bellamy etches inside of her, until he’s inside of her completely. He stares down at Clarke, checking to make sure she’s okay. She says nothing, but leans up to give him a kiss of reassurance. He returns the kiss with a sweet, slow passion as he rests on top of her, adjusting the two of them so that they’re both comfortable.

“Okay,” Clarke whispers against him. “I’m okay. Keep going.”

Bellamy nods, not detaching his lips from hers as he slowly draws out of her. She moans into his mouth as he sinks back in slowly. Clarke brings her legs up around his torso, tightening her grip around him. He cradles her, ensuring she’s okay while gradually picking up his pace. Every once in a while, he’ll open his eyes, just to make sure she’s still doing alright, just to make sure he’s doing everything he can to make her feel good.

He brings his hand down in between them, gently circling around her clit. That seems to work her up, easing the way his cock slides into her. Bellamy presses harder on her clit, rubbing in faster, tighter circles as he thrusts in and out of her.

“Faster,” Clarke whimpers. “Baby, please go faster.”

She silences him with her mouth before he can ask if she’s sure. Clarke’s certain, in everything she does. And anything she tells him to do, he’ll do it, if it means making her feel even a sliver as good as she makes him feel.

“Oh, baby,” Clarke mewls. “I love you.”

“I love you, princess.” Bellamy breathes.

He needs her to come before he does. She seems close, hips bucking upwards rapidly, as he attempts to chase her own thrusts. Bellamy rubs her clit faster, keeps his pace inside her steady. He feels her pulsate, on the edge of release, and makes sure to maintain everything that he’s doing to get her to where she needs to be.

Clarke cries out when she comes. Bellamy’s not too far behind, just needing a couple more thrusts to send himself over the edge. As he prepares to pull out, Clarke tightens her grip around his torso.

“Come inside me,” she begs. “Please, baby.”

Fuck, anything to please her. Bellamy anchors himself inside of her, his own orgasm crashing over him as he collapses against her. Clarke holds him close to her, their erratic breaths synced, just like the rapid beats of their hearts. Bellamy pulls out of her, driven crazy by the thought that she’s filled with him right now.

Bellamy kisses along her neck, murmuring, “Baby, do you need to–”

“In a minute,” Clarke breathes. She shifts around to cuddle up to him, laying her cheek against his chest as she peers up at him. “I have a really strong opinion of you now.”

Bellamy chuckles heartily, and his chest glows. He holds her tighter to him as she catches her breath, running his hands through her hair as she climbs down. Pressing a light kiss to her forehead, Clarke sighs happily in his arms. They stay there, for a moment, and Bellamy tries to think as to how he got so lucky with Clarke, with his life up until this point. To be able to have it all, to have her, after everything that he’s done.

He knows better than to jinx it, though. Or at least, he hopes that he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My twitter is @virgohotspot ! :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Being with Clarke, beyond the terms of his agreement with Octavia, is a feeling Bellamy’s not sure he’ll ever get over. It’s less like a high, more like a feeling, a _knowing_ that everything is secure and right, because he has Clarke. His dreams are never diminished in light of hers, his input is valid and appreciated, his love for her is reciprocated – sometimes, Bellamy forgets what his life was like before Clarke. It slips his mind how he managed to function in a world so against him, and now with Clarke at his side, he realizes it may not have been the universe setting him up for failure – just himself.

With all of his heart and his soul and any faith he has in the universe, Bellamy prays that the life he built against himself burns to the ground to a pile of ash. He doesn’t need the constant reminders of everything he’s done wrong, going against what’s right to feel the bare minimum of good or to please his sister. That life is behind him, and these final months in high school, ones he intends to share with Clarke, should only be full of the two of them. No distractions, no lies, no Octavia budding in, just him and Clarke.

It’s not that he doesn’t worry, though. Walking into Arkadia High, hand in hand with Clarke after their weekend together, Bellamy’s already scanning for his sister preying in the halls. He tried to enjoy his weekend with Clarke, and he surely did, but Octavia and her irrationality never fail to prick the nerves along Bellamy’s spine. He knows how sinister his sister can be, and while she’s never done anything to openly betray him, he’s never said no to her, abandoned her, refused to do her bidding when she asked. It’s something new for the both of them.

Clarke’s grip tightens on his arm. “Hey. You okay?”

“No, not really,” Bellamy winces as the reach Clarke’s locker. She turns the dial, but keeps her eyes on him. “I’m waiting to face my sister’s wrath.”

She laughs, but it’s more complimentary. They both know he’s not exaggerating. Clarke opens her locker, fishing out the books that she needs for her upcoming class, and tucking it under her arm. She turns back to Bellamy, and leans up, brushing a quick kiss against his cheek. He smiles at her touch.

“She has no power over you, Bellamy,” Clarke tells him. “Octavia will always be your sister, but you know who you are.”

Bellamy may be seen as Bellamy Blake, football star and retired man-whore to his classmates and now, boyfriend to Clarke, but there was once a time he was just Octavia’s big brother. He was less admired, more feared in their days on the schoolyard, all because everyone was afraid about what he would do if someone crossed Octavia. In that way, she was feared as well, and when his charisma shone in high school, he became more admirable and Octavia assumed his title as the scariest Blake.

It was an adjustment then, and it’s certainly one now. Being grounded in himself as opposed to Octavia feels like walking on water, with the constant threat of dipping into the depths of the ocean and never getting the chance to breathe again. But each step, he holds Clarke’s hand, and the feeling of invincibility returns. Until the storm rolls in, and his sister reminds him of everything he’s done and everything he truly is.

He knows who he was just before this weekend; someone who would use a completely innocent person just so his sister can win a stupid high school title. Granted, Bellamy hadn’t known Clarke was innocent, but he should have. There was a reason he was so inclined to be with her, so drawn to everything that she was – her authenticity, above all else. And yet, he chose to believe Octavia and her history of deceitfulness because she’s his sister.

It may be selfish of him, but Bellamy just hopes he doesn’t have to deal with the consequences of everything he’s done for his sister up until this point. Sixteen years with Octavia Blake should be enough.

“You’re right,” Bellamy nods, intertwining his fingers with Clarke. He leans in, pressing his lips against hers. “You’re always right.”

Clarke giggles against his lips. “I am, huh? There’s got to be some sort of reward for that.”

“I’m sure I can give you something.”

His hands wrap around the small of her back, threatening to lower to her bottom, if they had not been standing in the middle of the hallway. Bellamy relishes in touching her, in making her squeak, squeal, moan and whimper. Every sound he ignites from her brings a surge of something whimsical to his chest, and the grin that follows shoots a beam into his heart. Everything about her, he takes pride in, everything about her, he absolutely adores, everything about her, he loves. And if he could let he know that every second of the day, he would.

Clarke grins against his mouth, bringing her hands around his neck. Bellamy would stay locked in that position, or at least move them to somewhere more private, but they were just early enough to school so that they could gather their books and get to class. He leaves her with one final peck on the lips before drawing back.

But instead of being welcomed by the sound of the school bell, the screech of a familiar voice rings through the halls. “Bellamy! There you are.”

Dread fills his chest as Bellamy turns, noting his sister striding down the hall. She’s got a smile on her face, which is more scary than her appearing angry, and she’s waving at him like they’re the best of buddies. Clarke’s hands come down from around his neck, intertwining their fingers once more. She gives him a reassuring squeeze, and Bellamy fears this may be the last time he feels her touch.

Bellamy has no clue what Octavia has in store as she waltzes towards them, but he braces himself for the worst. If she comes and confesses everything now, about their plan and how none of it was supposed to be real – he’ll deny it. Plain and simple. He can only hope he’s convincing enough for Clarke.

“Hi, big brother,” Octavia greets them, bubbly and energetic. He expects the smile to drop from her face and a scowl to form when she addresses Clarke, but her beam of happiness doesn’t even shift. “Morning, Clarke. How was your weekend?”

Bellamy’s eyes narrow, teeth clenching as he stares at his sister. Octavia doesn’t waver – when does she ever – simply giving her brightest of smiles to her brother and his girlfriend. As if Bellamy hadn’t basically forgone their plan and as if Clarke hasn’t been her mortal enemy since their earliest years of life.

Clarke tilts her head towards him ever so slightly, trying to give him a warning, suspicious look without disrupting whatever façade Octavia has going on. This time, he squeezes her hand. He knows better than to think Octavia’s attitude is anything but genuine. He’s grown up with her, for fuck’s sake. It just so happens to be, that usually, Octavia doesn’t hide how she feels towards other people – unless it could work in her favor.

“Good,” Bellamy says cautiously.

Silence hangs between them, less awkward and more anxiety-inducing for Bellamy. His chest tightens, and while he tries his best to keep his gaze steady on Octavia, he’s hyperaware of Clarke at his side. Everything left unsaid, that could possibly be forming on the very tip of Octavia’s tongue, threatening to slip past her lips and ruin anything good Bellamy’s ever had in his life.

Octavia has all the power here. And she knows it.

“Well, are you guys excited for tonight’s game?” Octavia brings up, clasping her hands in front of her. “The final one before Homecoming.”

“Should be an easy win,” Clarke chimes in, tucking her arms around Bellamy’s. “Polis High’s captain is all talk.”

Bellamy’s not worried about the game – certainly not one against Polis High. It may be the final game that leads them into Homecoming, but Arkadia High is already well in the lead and Polis should not be a tricky team to beat They’re strategic, but overly so. They don’t know how to actually play the game that doesn’t rely on endless amounts of background conspiracies. The team sort of reminds him of his sister in this very moment – will say what they want to your face and then plot your downfall behind your back.

“Well, nobody’s going to be looking at these guys,” Octavia waves her hand with a playful laugh, like some sort of robotic caricature. “Everyone’s coming for the half-time show. To see _us_ , Clarke.”

Clarke forces a smile. “I’m sure we’re a highlight.”

“Of course we are,” the sickly sweet tone seeps through Bellamy’s skin, sends shivers up his spine. Octavia’s head tilts over to Bellamy, and the hint of smirk appears on her lips. “Isn’t that right, Bell?”

Bellamy screws his lips shut, just as the bell rings above them. Clarke’s grip loosens from his arm, and she pulls away from him, but Bellamy can barely feel her anymore. He stares right at Octavia, that small, barely noticeable smirk imprinting in his mind. His heart races, and his throat goes dry, and he can’t even say anything – nothing that would make him look any good to his girlfriend at his side.

The numbness fades from his body when Clarke pecks his lips. Bellamy returns the kiss, a bittersweet feeling sinking into his chest. Clarke draws back, with a tight, reassuring smile and hopeful glint in her eye. He yearns to reach out to her, hold her tighter, but he lets her take a step back.

“I’ve got to get to class,” Clarke announces promptly. “Walk me, Bellamy?”

She’s trying to give him an out – one Bellamy is desperate to take, although he doesn’t deserve to. He gives her a tight-lipped smile, masked with an I’m-Going-To-Be-Okay, even though that’s probably a lie.

“I think I’m going to talk to my sister for a bit,” Bellamy replies as calmly as possible. “I’ll see you at lunch, okay, baby?”

Clarke smiles at the nickname, a blush creeping to her cheeks. Bellamy’s chest burns. He watches as she tries to compose herself, giving him a curt nod and a smile of acknowledgement to Octavia, before she swivels on her heel and walks down the hall. Bellamy’s eyes linger on her as she goes, waiting until she disappears around the corridor to even attempt to tear his gaze away from her. When he finally does, Octavia is already staring at him, that smirk impossible to miss now.

“ _Baby_ ,” Octavia draws out, a humorless chuckle following. “You’re in deep, aren’t you?”

Bellamy doesn’t have time for the bullshit. Maybe he could entertain her before, but now that he’s announced that he’s done with her – he has to act like it. A scowl forms on his lips, and he leans in close to Octavia, hoping that their peers scrambling to class don’t notice the force between the brother and sister.

“I’m done with this game of yours, Octavia,” Bellamy sneers. “Whatever you have planned, stop. Don’t you owe me that?”

Octavia’s façade of sweetness drops, probably as easily as it came to her. She narrows her eyes, fearlessly. “I owe you this – you have time to change your mind. You don’t even need to do a public break up if you don’t want to. Just end it.”

“I don’t want to,” Bellamy says through gritted teeth. “How is that not making it through that thick skull of yours, Octavia?”

“Because I’m giving you an easier option. Either dump Clarke in whatever private, sentimental way you deem fitting, or lose everything.”

“I only lose everything if I lose Clarke.”

Octavia seems hurt by this; her eyes widen, and her snarl drops into a frown. Bellamy feels a sting to his chest, a sharpness he feels whenever he’s disappointing Octavia. In the midst of all this, the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt his sister. After all, all of this was for her. But now, it comes in between him and her, and one of them is going to end up getting what they want while the other is left to suffer with the leftovers. This time, Bellamy’s going to make sure it’s not him.

“Wow,” Octavia breathes out. “So that’s it. You’re choosing her over me?”

“I’m not choosing anybody, but me,” Bellamy says simply. “You’ll always be my sister, Octavia. But I’m not living for you anymore.”

“You’re going to stop living your life for me so you can live it for Clarke?”

“You see, that’s how it is with you. I have to live for somebody. To you, I’m a replacement for Mom, I’m your brother, I’m Clarke’s boyfriend. I can never exist for me.”

Octavia screws her lips shut, and Bellamy knows it’s not because she doesn’t have more to say. It’s because this approach of hers clearly isn’t working, and she’s mulling over a different one in her mind. She’ll never get that Clarke encourages him to work for himself, to be who he is without the looming threat of everything he could possibly do wrong. Octavia will never be able to understand how he’s more himself with Clarke, doing more for his own well-being than he ever was on his own.

God forbid anything happens between him and Clarke, Bellamy hopes that he’ll be able to continue living for him. Not sinking back to Octavia and having her make choices for him and dictate how _their_ lives are supposed to be. But for now, he can pray that he can keep his sister at a healthy distance and keep Clarke with him so that this new life his building doesn’t come crumbling down before it even starts.

“I’m giving you one more chance, big brother,” Octavia says menacingly. “Clarke is just a girl. Go pick up another blonde off the street, you probably won’t even be able to tell the difference.” Bellamy bites down on his tongue. “I’ll always be your sister, you said that yourself. Things need to go back to the way it was, you and I. Like it was meant to be.”

The second bell rings. Bellamy stares at his sister, and while the love he has for her will never fade, he’s done putting her on a pedestal. Done having his world revolving around her. Whatever threats Octavia can say, it’s all just hearsay. Her word against his. At the end of the day, people will believe he’s more credible than her. Octavia’s got to know that. He can keep Clarke, have Octavia by his side, not his center, and live his life according to him. He can have it all.

Bellamy takes a step away from his sister. “Get to class, Octavia. I’ll see you at the game tonight.” He doesn’t wait for her reaction, simply turns and walks to class without any word from either of them.

* * *

The bleachers are full with people from Arkadia and Polis High. It’s loud, the screams pounding in Bellamy’s ears, sweat dripping from his brow. The last stretch before half-time, Bellamy heaves in a gust of air, trying to keep his breathing in order. The whistle blows, and the roar of the crowd is silenced in Bellamy’s ears, the only sound he can hear being the pounding of his own heart as he charges toward the opposing line.

Finn has the fucking ball, because of course he does. Bellamy’s not sure who passed to him, was too busy getting in his position – he should be able to rely on his fucking teammates not to pass to the rookie. That wasn’t a part of their plays, certainly not this late into the game. But he supposes there’s nothing he can do now, and they’re in the lead, so it’s not like he’s worried.

For a split second, Bellamy looks to the crowd. He doesn’t need to scan, he already knows where she is. Clarke is sitting on the front row of the bleachers, perched with all the other cheerleaders. She shines amongst the rest of them, her worried face, furrowed brows and incessant frown a prominent view as she stares out at the field. She’s hugging his varsity jacket to her chest, the autumn air unforgiving with her cheerleading uniform. Clarke locks eyes with Bellamy, and tries to rid of the concern on her face with a smile.

Bellamy smirks back at her. He puckers his lips, giving her a playful air kiss, just to see her giggle. She breaks out into a genuine grin, one that’s enough motivation for him to finish this last stretch without blinking an eye.

_I’ve got this_. Bellamy zones back into the game, not much time having passed. Finn still has the ball, charging to the opposing line like he’s actually got a chance. There’s a guy on the Polis team creeping up on Bellamy, which he ensures to keep an eye on out of his peripheral vision. But his main focus is Finn, and making sure the rookie doesn’t mistake this as his time to shine.

“Finn!” Bellamy’s voice booms over the field. Finn looks up in alarm as the other team starts closing in on him. “Pass! _Now_!”

Whatever glory Finn thought he was going to receive, he must know it’s far out of his reach. He winds his hand back, and throws the ball over to Bellamy. The football soars through the air, everyone’s eyes on it – the coaches, both teams, the crowd’s, Bellamy’s. Bellamy holds up his hands, and the ball perfectly lands in his grasp, just as the player from the other team charges towards him.

Bellamy elbows him in the face easily, knocking the guard of his helmet upwards to distract him. The player stumbles back, and Bellamy makes a beeline for the opposing line. He’s sure the whole crowd is in uproar behind him, but all he can hear is Clarke’s voice chanting, _Go, Bellamy! You’ve got this!_

And that’s enough to send him through the finish line, just as the whistle is blown to signal the ending of the first half. It’s only then that the crowd zones back in to his ears, accompanying the blood rush and adrenaline that pumps through him. Bellamy turns to stare at the scoreboard, right below the jumbotron. _1-3_. It’s close, but Bellamy still is not worried.

He trudges off the field, Clarke hopping off the bleacher to hold his water bottle out to him. Bellamy bypasses the drink he desperately needs, unbuckling his helmet and removing it from his head before surging forward to capture Clarke’s lips. She smiles into the kiss as his hand finds the small of her back, holding her steady. She brings her hands up to cup his cheeks, and there’s no better feeling than the ecstasy that consumes him in this very moment.

“Look at you, Superstar,” Clarke draws back with a playful smirk. “Those scouts are going to be all over you.”

“They’re not here yet,” Bellamy chastises. “Come grab dinner with me after the game. We’ll celebrate.”

“You haven’t even won yet.”

There’s a twinkle in his eye when he stares at her. “I think I already have.”

A blush appears on Clarke’s cheeks, but before she can say anything, that sickly familiar voice booms through the field. That seems to be a common characteristic of the Blake’s.

“Clarke!” Octavia shouts. “Get your ass over here!”

“Well, I guess we’ve stopped playing nice,” Clarke sighs. She pecks Bellamy’s lips quickly before he accepts the water bottle from her. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, princess.”

And with that, she’s off to the field. Bellamy takes her spot on the bench, chugging down the water. He watches, her skirt flouncing up and down as she joins the rest of her team on the field. Bellamy smirks to himself, setting his bottle down by his side. He always loves seeing her peform, in more ways than one. She tucks herself into the left side of their formation, with Octavia front and center, unsurprisingly.

His sister catches his eye, and instead of the mischief he’s used to seeing, there’s caution. Bellamy tries not let her get to him, especially after their run-in in the hall this morning. Octavia looks away first, staring out into the crowd and plastering a fake, cheery smile across her face. The music, some up-beat techno number starts blaring over the speakers.

“Five, six, seven, eight!” Octavia chants over the music and the rest of the cheerleaders strike a pose. “Ready? Okay!”

They launch into one of their chants, ones that are basically ingrained in Bellamy’s head at this point. Something about Arkadia High being the team to beat, about their mascot beating up the other mascot, Bellamy doesn’t care enough to remember which one this is. He would, if Clarke was at all invested in the song choices, but it’s her movements that she takes pride in, the way that she can match the speed and intensity of her captain without even trying.

At one of the more upbeat moments of the song, the cheerleaders form a pyramid. Bellamy always stresses when they do this, because Octavia always makes sure she’s the one on top. Clarke is the one supporter her left leg, and Bree’s on the other, and he has faith they’re not going to drop her, but his stomach always churns. Octavia outstretches her arms in the air, a big, cheery grin on her face and Bellamy claps approvingly.

As the cheerleaders hoist Octavia down to the ground, the music begins to crackle. Bellamy doesn’t think much of it, their radio system is old and the jumbotron’s speakers are a bit flaky. He expects Octavia to freak out, though, because that’s just her go-to when things don’t go her way. Most of the cheerleaders power through the crackle and fade of the music, but Octavia only does the moves half-assed, eyes lingering on the jumbotron.

Bellamy knows what this is instantly. The music cuts off completely, and the jumbotron flickers on from its blank screen. Bellamy’s face appears on the screen, from an awkward downward angle, but it’s definitely him. His heart drops, and he instantly looks to Clarke, who’s peering at the screen with her eyebrows furrowed.

The speaker seems to be working again, but it’s no longer playing music. His voice crackles through the speakers, except this time it’s clear as day.

_“Octavia, I feel absolutely nothing for Clarke.”_

The bleachers launch into gasps, but Bellamy doesn’t turn to stare at any of them. Bellamy stands abruptly to his feet, keeps his eyes locked on Clarke, and watches hopelessly as the color drains from her face.

_“I can’t stand her. She’s nothing more than pretentious, snobby princess who whines about literally everything known to man. Being around her is so goddamn draining, I want to pull my hair out. I’m only doing this for you.”_

It dawns on Clarke then. Everyone else may be confused, wondering what the fuck he’s talking about doing for Octavia. But Clarke’s smart, she knows. The minute the words spew from his mouth, Bellamy can pinpoint the moment her heart shatters, a realization sinking into her skin and rattling her bones. And then, the final blow.

_“And maybe because I could get her ass in bed.”_

The video cuts out then, pausing on the smirk across on-screen Bellamy’s face. The confused murmurs of the crowd erupt into a chorus of _whoop’s_ and congratulatory shouts, but he blocks them out. He’s only staring at Clarke, who appears as frozen as he is on-screen. He notes Octavia’s expectant gaze out of his peripheral. Another person that he tries to block out.

When Clarke looks at him, his heart shatters, too. The broken expression sprawled across her face, the droop of her features, the way he can physically see her heart crumbling. He takes a step towards the field, and that’s when Clarke moves. She starts sprinting off the field, running straight past Bellamy and out of the gates.

Bellamy ignores the shout of Coach Kane, instantly sprinting after Clarke. He thinks he lost her past the gates, tries to rack his brain as to where she could have gone. He drove her to school today, the buses are long gone, she could be walking. Bellamy drags his fingers through his hair, the panic rising in his chest, desperation flooding into every area of his body.

A whisk of blonde hair catches his line of vision. Out by the farther end of the parking lot, Bellamy’s not sure she even knows where she’s going. His legs are aching from the game, but he finds any muscle left in him to charge after her.

“Clarke!” Bellamy calls out, a rasp to his voice. No response, but she slows. He doesn’t have the strength to shout again, his voice cracking. “Clarke, baby, please.”

Clarke spins around, her face blotchy and tears streaming down her cheeks. Bellamy didn’t think his heart could shatter more than once, but it does for a second time when he takes in her features. Her face is twisted into a painful look of betrayal and heartbreak, all caused by him. He can blame Octavia all he wants for leaking that video, but he’s the one who said all those things. He’s the one that hurt Clarke.

“Don’t call me that,” Clarke spits out. Bellamy reaches out to her, and she swats his hand away, “ _Don’t_ touch me.”

“I’m so sorry,” he doesn’t know what else to say, not sure anything else would suffice. “I said all those things before–”

“Before what?” Clarke scowls. “Before we were together? Or after you decided you would pretend to like me?”

Bellamy’s throat goes dry, but he knows he has to explain. He, at least, owes her that much. “Octavia lied to me. She said–”

“So, it’s true. You never really wanted to be with me.”

“That’s – It’s not like that,” Bellamy tries to find the right words to say, anything to ease the pain. Yet, there’s no right words to explain this situation without saying the whole truth. He breathes in deeply, lets out a long sigh. “Not at first.”

Clarke shakes her head in disbelief, a puff of a humorless laugh escaping her lips. A fresh bout of tears stroll down her cheeks, and Bellamy aches to reach out to her, hold her in his arms. He knows he can’t, knows that’s not fair to her. She backs away from him, and when he tries to follow, she holds out her hands, halting the both of them.

“Atom told me to be careful. That you Blakes only look out for each other, and that’s it,” Clarke says slowly. “And I didn’t believe him. I said that you made me feel special, cared for, that you _really liked me_. I’m just as stupid as he was.”

“No, you’re not,” Bellamy, again, tries to take a step forward, but Clarke only draws back. He stops in his tracks, trying to respect her space. “It started as a plan for Octavia to get back at you for what happened with Atom–”

“This whole time, you knew? You knew that I told Atom about her and that college guy?”

“No! _No_. She lied to me, made up this whole story, and I wanted to make her feel better, okay? So I agreed to help her get back at you and win Homecoming Queen–”

“Homecoming Queen?” Clarke furrows her eyebrows together, and another realization dawns on her. “You did all of this so your sister could win a stupid crown?”

Disgust writes itself across Clarke’s face. Bellamy’s struggles to find the words, or string together any sentence to make Clarke feel okay, to reassure her. He opens his mouth, trying to find something to say. There’s nothing that can save either of them from this. Every last bit of hope in his chest, tarnished to shreds because of nobody but himself.

“I ended it, on Friday when I found out the truth,” Bellamy confesses, his voice weak. “Octavia’s plan was done, it was over.”

And suddenly, he’s sounding just like that sister of his. Clarke must recognize it, too, because she shakes her head, no longer in disbelief but in the pure acknowledgement of foolery. He’s made her out to be this snobby princess who is undeserving, uncapable of love. Yet, all he feels for her is endless amounts of love that he’s unable to express, because of his own stupidity. The only reason any of them are in this mess is because he enabled Octavia’s behavior.

“So, instead of telling me, you kept lying to me,” Clarke accuses.

“I didn’t want to hurt you–”

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

The two of them just stand there, gazing at one another. Broken and bruised, they know how this ends. Bellamy’s known it all along, and yet he thought that he found a loophole, an escape to the consequences of his own actions. Yet, here he is, standing across from the woman who he loves, who he betrayed in the worst possible way imaginable. There’s no coming back from this, and both of them know it.

Bellamy doesn’t want to say it. He feels every part of him crumble, hot tears burning his own eyes. Clarke’s a bit blurry in his vision now, but he can still see the hurt written across her face. The hurt that he caused.

“I don’t even know who you are,” Clarke croaks. “I can’t believe I let you…”

She trails off. She doesn’t have to say it. He knows, he remembers how he touched her, just the night before, saying endless _I love you’s_ like he could spend the rest of his life spewing it. He remembers how she looked at him. With so much love and trust, and now all of that is gone. He’s ruined that for her.

Bellamy surges forward, and his hand ghosts by her arm. “Baby, please–”

There’s a fire in Clarke’s eyes as she roughly pushes his hand off of her. “I’m not your baby. I’m not your princess, I’m not your girlfriend, I’m not your _anything_. I never was.”

“That’s not true,” Bellamy manages to say.

It doesn’t matter what spews from his mouth now. Nothing he says, nothing he will ever do, will make her believe him.

Clarke takes another step back from him, and then another. “ _This_ is done. Whatever this is, whatever this was, this is _over_.”

Swiveling around on her heel, Clarke takes off running once more. This time, he doesn’t follow her, he just watches her go. Watches as she disappears out of his sight, and probably out of his life, for good. And he has nobody to blame but himself.

* * *

His sister comes into his room that night. She usually does, sometimes just sitting on his bed while he’s doing work or finding something in the room to occupy her time. Now, it’s with a purpose, though. She should know better than to think they’re on speaking terms, and in all honesty, Octavia probably knows exactly where they stand. It doesn’t mean that she’s not going to try to do something about it.

Bellamy doesn’t even acknowledge her. He’s not sure if he can. He stays curled up to one side of his bed, hugging his varsity jacket to him that Clarke had abandoned on the bleachers. It smells like him still, if only a little. The musk of his scent is mixed in with her perfume and her natural organic smell. He holds it a little closer to him, trying to only focus on the remnants of her on the jacket. Everything about him makes him sick.

There’s a dip in the mattress, surely to where Octavia is sitting. A brief silence lingers in the room, a waiting game that Octavia’s usually not the one to break. He’s not sure he has the strength to even open his mouth. Not sure that anything that he says will be beneficial to the situation or that anything harmful he chooses to spew would make him feel any better.

“Great job on the game today,” Octavia chooses her words carefully. “You’re definitely going to crush the other team at the Homecoming game.”

Bellamy doesn’t remember how he returned to the game. He just recalls Clarke disappearing from the parking lot, and sending her a bunch of texts to make sure she got home safely. She never responded, but Bree and Raven had followed her home. Raven ignored his messages, but Bree said she was home safely, and when he pressed for more information, never responded. He was looking at his phone a lot during the breaks in the game. He doesn’t remember the actual game.

They’d managed to win, he knew that much.

Octavia sighs deeply when Bellamy doesn’t respond. He hears her scoot closer, the creak of his bed bearing her weight. The side of her brushes up against his back as she rests against the headboard. He can picture her staring down at him, but makes no move to check if he’s correct.

“You’re going to be okay, Bellamy,” it’s not reassuring, more of an announcement. “Everyone still adores you at that school. And in a couple of months, everyone’s going to love you at Arkadia U. There’s going to be so many girls begging for a chance with you.”

Bellamy doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even want to entertain Octavia right now. All he can think about is Clarke, the only girl he ever wants to be with is Clarke.

He remembers what he said to himself earlier. If God forbid, he lost Clarke, he couldn’t go back into this pattern with Octavia. He may have enabled her, may have got himself in this mess, but Octavia is far from innocent. His world revolving around her is what got them into this. From this point forward, he’s never letting that happen to him again.

“I’m not going to Arkadia U,” Bellamy deadpans.

It’s quiet for a moment. Octavia’s either thinking of what to say or has been stunned into silence. Bellamy can’t find it himself to care.

“Okay,” Octavia says slowly. “Do you want me to stay? We can watch a movie–”

“No.”

Octavia doesn’t say anything to that. Bellamy holds his varsity jacket tighter, and closes his eyes. He knows he’s not going to sleep tonight, but let Octavia think he’s trying. He hears the creak of his mattress, before feeling her weight being lifted off the bed. Her footsteps creak out of the doorway, and there’s a brief pause, before she shuts the door behind her.

* * *

Clarke’s name lingers in whispers in the hall and spoken in between sentences, and majority of which are not positive. Octavia was right – without Bellamy’s name attached to her, her popularity undergoes a drastic decline. It’s basically inevitable that Octavia is going to win at this point.

Meanwhile, Bellamy’s popularity is unphased – if so, probably increased. He enters Arkadia High, expecting to be met with a chorus of glares and murmurs about how terrible of a person he is. It would only be fair, considering that’s exactly who he feels like right now. And if Clarke’s name is suffering, so should his. But of course, the reaction he receives is the opposite.

A group of girls, some of which Bellamy is pretty sure he’s already slept with, swarm him the minute he steps through the doors of Arkadia High. Bellamy’s not exactly positive as to what all of their names are, but they don’t seem to mind his confusion. They surround him, halting him in his stride, batting their eyelashes and twirling their hair around their fingers.

“Hey, Bellamy,” one of them sings. “You must be free for a Homecoming Date now, seeing as Clarke was never an option to begin with.”

Bellamy’s eyes narrow, darkening at the group of girls as they launch into belittling Clarke. He supposes he brought this on himself, but it doesn’t absolve the ache in his chest or the irritation prickling at his skin whenever someone says something bad about her. The group doesn’t seem to notice his resistance towards them, continuing on their tirade as the anger fuses inside of Bellamy’s chest.

“God, that jumbotron shtick was so funny,” another chimes in. “Who do you think set it up?”

“I thought it was you, Bellamy,” the third girl says, a sultry tone to her voice. “I mean, this was all your plan, after all.”

Of course, Octavia would get off scot-free. Even though he said in the video that he was doing this for her, people must have interpreted it as the big brother taking on the responsibility himself, just to ensure that his little sister could have the spotlight. The thing is, he doesn’t even care if the blame is on him – it should be. Clarke certainly sees it that way. He just despises the fact that he’s being praised for it, like he didn’t up and destroy another human being’s life.

“I think it was hot,” the first one barges in once more. “I’m kind of upset we didn’t figure it out sooner. We must have looked just as stupid as Clarke did.”

The trio of girls erupt into a boisterous chorus of laughter, unaware of the anger boiling in Bellamy’s veins. He stares at the three of them, and their mockery of Clarke, knowing that he brought this into the world. He’s angry at his sister for starting this, at these girls for mocking Clarke, at the school for praising his actions while demeaning hers, at himself for being the one to set the flame to this fire.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bellamy mutters.

He merely brushes them off, pushing past them before he can see their reaction. He couldn’t care less, whatever look appears across their face is nothing compared to the regret he feels in this very moment.

Yet, nobody else seems to think that Bellamy has anything to regret. As he strides further through the halls of Arkadia High, people gawk at him like this legend – like he’s this world wonder for manipulating and humiliating another human being. They offer high five’s, and whoop’s, like what he did to Clarke was such a commendable act, like he was just _so fucking cool_. Bellamy can’t fucking stand it, and he feels more like shit than he already did before.

Bree and Raven are huddled by their lockers, in midst of conversation. Bellamy spots them, and instantly tries to walk over to approach them. Raven catches his eye, sending him a heated glare as a greeting before shuffling her and Bree away before Bellamy can reach them. He slows, watching as the two stride down the hall without any more of an acknowledgement to him. Groaning in defeat, he slams his fist against a locker, gaining some notable stares. Not that he much cares about the attention he’s getting at this point.

Recollecting himself as murmurs sort through the halls, Bellamy turns, finding Jasper awkwardly standing behind him. The guy looks quite out of place, not sure whether to speak to Bellamy or ignore him completely. Bellamy softens, drawing a low breath.

“Jasper,” Bellamy tries to remain his composure. “Hey.”

“We’ve been friends for a while, Bellamy,” Jasper says slowly, completely ignoring Bellamy’s greeting. “But I never thought you were the type of person to do that to someone.”

Bellamy’s shoulders slump, that everlasting guilt consuming him once more. “I know. I fucked up. But I want to make it up to her.”

“She’s not at school today,” Jasper tells him. “I don’t think she’ll come for the rest of the week.”

“Well, she has to be here on Thursday. We’re presenting our project.”  
  


“I really don’t think that’s what’s on her mind right now.”

Bellamy screws his lips shut, snaking his hand through his hair and blowing steam out of his mouth in exasperation. He debated stopping by her house, but it’s surrounded by a hefty gate, someone would have to let him inside in order for him to even step foot on her doorstep. Clarke certainly wouldn’t let him in, and in the rare chance her mother was home, they probably would call the police thinking he was an intruder.

“Why would you do it?” Jasper asks, after several moments of silence. “That’s so not like you, Bellamy. How could you–”

“Wasn’t Bellamy,” a familiar voice chimes in. Atom appears from behind Bellamy, resuming his position besides Jasper. He crosses his arms over his chest. “It was Octavia’s idea.”

Bellamy tilts his chin upwards, swallowing his pride. “Atom, I’m sorry. Octavia told me–”

Atom holds his hand up, silencing Bellamy. It’s the boldest he’s ever been to the eldest Blake, with Bellamy a constant looming threat. In any other setting, on any other occasion, Bellamy would pummel him to the ground for even daring to interrupt him. Now, Bellamy’s smart enough to know he’s not the one in any sort of right at the moment. He’s done Atom wrong, and even though it was primarily at the hands of his sister, Bellamy knows how much all of this was on him as well.

“I know. I know how Octavia can manipulate people to get what she wants,” Atom says. “But it doesn’t change what you did to Clarke. You’re still a Blake, just like Octavia. You’re just like her.”

“That’s not true,” Bellamy sneers, stepping forward. “When I found out what actually happened at the party, I stopped the plan. I told Octavia I was done with it.”

“And yet, you continued to date Clarke.”

“Because I love her.”

Atom and Jasper stand still, eyes bugging slightly. They seem surprised by the omission, and although Bellamy means every word, he’s a little taken aback by it, too. He’s only ever said it to Clarke, but exposing his true feelings in front of all these people seem like he’s giving them something he can’t take back. Like somehow, they’re going to twist his words, taint the love between him and Clarke, as if Bellamy hasn’t already done that himself.

“You love her?” Jasper is basically in awe. “Oh my God, it’s just like a movie–”

A quick swat to his chest from Atom shuts Jasper up really quickly. “If he loved Clarke, he wouldn’t have strung her along for this long. Fuck, since Jasper’s party? Just because Clarke showed me those pictures?”

“Pictures? Like nudes?” Jasper gasps.

“No!” Bellamy and Atom shout in unison. Jasper sinks back against the lockers, holding up his hands in mock defense.

Bellamy sighs deeply, staring directly at Atom. “Octavia spun the story. She said that something happened between you and Clarke–”

“And you believed her?”

“She’s my sister.”

“Well, then that’s on you. Stop bringing innocent people into your shit.”

Atom storms past Bellamy, even being courageous enough to brush past his shoulder. Bellamy barely staggers back, but the gesture in and of itself is enough of a warning sign for him. His eyes lift up to Jasper’s, who for a moment, just stares at him awkwardly. Before he decides that Bellamy isn’t worth his time either, shaking his head in dismay before walking in the opposite direction, leaving Bellamy completely alone.

* * *

“Bellamy,” Coach Kane calls over to him. Bellamy winces, already halfway off the field, but turns to face his Coach. He does not look impressed. “That stunt you pulled the other day–”

“That wasn’t me,” Bellamy defends. “Well – It was me on the screen, but I had nothing to do with the jumbotron–”

Coach Kane raises up his hand to silence Bellamy, a disapproving stare following. Bellamy screws his lip shut in response, straightening his posture. He knows better than to second guess his coach, especially this late in the season.

“It’s not a good look,” Kane sighs, bringing his hand down to his side.

Bellamy’s eyes widen slightly. “Do the scouts know–”

“Not to my knowledge. But the entirety of two schools do. I wouldn’t be surprised if they caught wind of it.”

Smoothening his tongue over his lower lip, Bellamy glances back over at the field. His teammates have long gone after practice, probably busying themselves in the changeroom, but he cheer squad has already taken their positions. He can hear Octavia barking orders and shouting, but he just gazes over her. Clarke wasn’t at school today either, and she certainly isn’t at cheer practice right now.

Bellamy looks to Kane. “What do I do?”

Kane quirks an eyebrow. “With Miss. Griffin or the scouts?”

“Both,” Bellamy admits sheepishly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“The scouts will still be here Friday night for the Homecoming game. I suggest being on your best behavior until then.”

“And with Clarke?”

Heaving a sigh, Kane claps his hand on Bellamy’s shoulder. Bellamy looks up at Kane, the pity ridden in his coach’s eyes making his stomach churn. He’s never had anyone look at him this way, like they felt bad for him. Seeing it with Jasper was irritating, but seeing it in the eyes of his coach is a whole other disappointment. Bellamy doesn’t think anyone should feel bad for him, he deserves to have his name dug into the mud.

Clarke’s been absent from school for two days, a byproduct of the embarrassment he caused and the name-calling littering around school. Bellamy can’t blame her – she’s been ignoring him for the past forty eight hours, and he deserves every minute of it. It doesn’t stop him from attempting to contact her, though. Phone calls, texts, he’s even resorted to commenting on the Google Doc that he knows she’s so particular about. She just deletes the comments and says nothing to him.

“Give her time,” Kane says, unhelpfully. “You really messed this one up.” Before Bellamy can agree, he adds, “Focus on what you can control. Like this scholarship on the line.”

With that, Kane squeezes his shoulder and strides off the field. Bellamy sighs deeply, raking his fingers through the mess of curls on top of his head before swiveling on his heel, and heading to the changerooms himself.

He hears her before he even turns the corner. Back inside the school, just a couple steps away from the changeroom, the familiar melody of her giggling sings through the air and resonates in his ear. Bellamy walks at an unearthly pace, the only reason he doesn’t start running is because he doesn’t want to scare her off. Bellamy rounds the corner, but instead of just seeing Clarke, it’s her and Finn standing less than idly outside the changeroom.

Clarke’s leaning against the wall, in her cheerleading uniform. She must have had the intention to join her team out on the field, but clearly got swept up in something less important. Batting her eyelashes, a flirty smile on her lips, she stares up at Finn, who towers over her. He has one hand pressed on the wall beside her face, angling his body towards her.

A fire ignites in Bellamy’s chest, his face twisting into a scowl. Clarke must sense him, because her gaze flickers to the side. An uncharacteristic smirk crawls onto her lips, before her attention turns back to Finn. A giggle follows, right on cue. Finn is seemingly oblivious to the shift in treatment from Clarke, and is even more unaware of Bellamy standing just a couple feet away from them.

“Rookie!” Bellamy barks.

Finn jolts backwards as Bellamy strides forward. He laughs nervously, creating a noticeable distance between him and Clarke. “Oh, hey, Bellamy. It’s Wednesday, I thought you were spending some extra time on the field.”

“You’ve got my schedule memorized?” Bellamy narrows his eyes.

“Clarke said–”

“Clarke should be at cheer practice,” Bellamy sneers, switching his gaze to Clarke. There’s a hatred in her eyes that causes an ache in his chest. He softens, “Right, Clarke?”

Clarke doesn’t say anything to him, simply turning her attention back to Finn. She smiles sweetly, and dusts her hand along his arm. “I’ll catch up with you later, alright?”

Finn nods, but his mind is clearly elsewhere. His gaze averts from Bellamy to Clarke and then back to Bellamy. One harsh glare from Bellamy and he’s scurrying off down the hall. The sound of his footsteps echo down the hall, but Bellamy’s only looking at Clarke. She stares back with the same fury, a different kind, one much more warranted than his. He waits until he can’t hear the pathetic sound of Finn’s sneaker against the tiles to do anything.

Bellamy surges forward, backing her against the wall she was propped up against so eagerly before. Clarke’s eyes widen, but she tries to mask it with the woe of confidence she’s so used to having. He stares down at her, eyes darkening, and she glares back up at him with the same intensity, unmoving and unwilling to give in.

“Finn, huh?” Bellamy mocks. “Didn’t think he was your type.”

“He’s one of the only people talking to me now,” Clarke snarls. “Considering you made _sure_ I’d look pathetic to the rest of the student body.”

A pang of guilt settles back into Bellamy’s chest. It seems to be a permanent feeling now, the guilt that plagues him. He deserves to have it follow him around forever, but he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to it. Every time he stares at Clarke, he feels this absolute love and adoration for her, something he’s never felt for anyone. And he’s tainted it with the guilt that follows when he remembers everything he did to hurt her.

Clarke makes sure he knows it, too. The anger in her eyes is unmistakable, but Bellamy’s peered into the blueness of her eyes enough times to decode every little glimmer in her pupil. There’s a twinge, blink and he’d miss it, of the heartbreak that was so evident on Monday night. Two days later, Clarke’s better at masking it, like she’s better at everything.

She straightens against the wall, brushing her torso against his, and Bellamy has to swallow thickly to refrain from saying anything. Bellamy reserves himself, keeping his gaze steady on Clarke. He opens his mouth, but she beats him to the punch.

“Atom told me you thought we hooked up. You thought I’d sink low enough to sleep with your sister’s boyfriend,” Clarke shakes her head, huffing out a dry laugh. And then she stops, and stares at him blankly. “Maybe I’ll actually do it this time.”

Bellamy feels like every bit of him is about to explode. His eyes darken with a snarl, just an amused smirk lifts onto Clarke’s lips. Clarke tries to brush past him, but Bellamy wraps his fingers around her wrist, pulling her back against the wall. She yelps in surprise, stumbling against the wall as Bellamy leans forward menacingly.

Mere inches away from one another, Bellamy can feel the hotness of her breath against his. He’s fuming, just because of the comment she made, and he’s sure that she can feel it. It radiates off him, and absorbs into her. She pushes her chest upwards, to assert her dominance and confidence that Bellamy takes in stride. He hooks his hand around her waist, pulling her closer.

“Nobody touches you but me,” Bellamy growls. “You’re mine.”

Clarke stares up at him for a moment, that doe-eyed expression of hers melting every crevasse of his heart. He tightens his grip around her waist, if only because he’s so scared that she’ll leave if he lets her go. Bellamy can’t take it, his chest tightening and his heart collapsing, and he leans in to brush his lips against hers.

She places her hands firmly against his chest, halting him in place. Bellamy draws back slightly, observing the anger and utter heartbreak written across her features.

“I never was,” Clarke snaps.

“I’m yours,” Bellamy tries, “I’ll be yours, however long you want me to be.”

“I don’t want you at all.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“You didn’t mean anything!”

Tears pool in her eyes, and Bellamy holds onto her tighter. His own eyes start to burn, and he presses his lips together tightly to refrain from crumbling. He can’t let her go, although maybe he should. Clearly, he hasn’t brought any good into her life. But he’s still selfish, he supposes, at his very core. He wants her, all of her, and if this is the only way he can do that, he’ll have her this way. In a mess of tears, standing in the emptiness of this hallway.

“You didn’t mean for this to happen. You didn’t mean to hurt me,” there’s a break in Clarke’s voice, a crumble in her façade. “But that wouldn’t be true, would it?”

Bellamy’s chest constricts. “There’s no excuse in the world that will make this okay. I know that.” He dares to lean closer, resting his forehead against hers. “But I meant it when I told you I love you.”

Clarke closes her heads, averting her gaze from him. “Don’t say that.”

He tucks his free hand under her cheek, lifting her head to look at him. “I did. I fell in love with you, Clarke.”

She doesn’t say anything, refuses to even look at him. Bellamy’s chest heaves up and down slowly, moving in to tuck his lips against her neck. Clarke gasps softly, but doesn’t stop him. He trails kisses up her neck, from the base of her collarbone to her jawline. His lips relish in the softness of her skin, even though it’s only been a couple days, he’s missed her more than anything.

From her jawline, Bellamy treads up to her lips. Just as he presses a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, Clarke stops him, pushing him off of her forcefully. Bellamy stumbles back, but this time makes no effort to surge forward. Staring at her, at the tears forming on her eyes and the twist of sadness on her face, his heart shatters.

“You don’t have love for anyone but yourself and your sister,” Clarke spits out. She straightens, brushing out her cheer uniform. “Tomorrow, we present our project for Mr. Pike and then you never speak to me again.”

“I don’t want that,” Bellamy challenges. “And I know you don’t either.”

“I’m done having you and your sister humiliate me,” Clarke scowls. She steps forward, eyes dancing with mischief. “And if you think I’m going to backdown from Homecoming Queen, think again.”

“I’ll make sure you win,” Bellamy blurts out, desperate. “I could–”

“What? Pretend to date me?” Clarke laughs bitterly, drawing back from him. Bellamy stares after her as she walks backwards. “Leave me the fuck alone, Bellamy. And be ready for our presentation tomorrow.”

With that, she swivels around on her heel and strides down the hall. Bellamy watches her go, heart pounding and chest threatening to explode. Clarke glances over her shoulder, eyes locking with his once more before she disappears around the corner. Bellamy swallows down a lump in his throat.

Bellamy always knew his ending with Clarke would be explosive. He just always thought that it would be in the form of a mess; talk of the school, an angry Clarke, a Bellamy who pretends that he doesn’t care. Granted, he got two out of the three right – he just hadn’t accounted for the heartbreak, the weight of not only losing the person that he loves, but dismantling the hopes and dreams they had for one another.

Clarke may always hate him, and she has every right, too. But Bellamy will die trying to prove that his love for her is real, that it always will be.

* * *

Wearing a tight t-shirt always earns Bellamy some stares. Wearing a tight t-shirt with Clarke Griffin’s face on them earns Bellamy an entirely different set of looks.

“Vote Clarke Griffin for Homecoming Queen,” Bellamy thrusts a poster into one of his classmates hands. Another passes by, and he shoves the poster into their chest. He repeats, “Vote Clarke Griffin for Homecoming Queen.”

People give him confused stares, but once Bellamy sends them a quick glare, they scurry away with the poster in hand. He understands their confusion – just a couple days ago, they saw him plastered over the jumbotron, voicing his dislike towards Clarke Griffin. Now, he’s advertising her for the title of Homecoming Queen. It’s a drastic contrast, but Bellamy’s not going to let anyone ask questions. This is for Clarke, and Clarke only.

He’s been handing out posters all morning. Thankfully, Jasper not only offered to help make the posters, but participate in Bellamy’s campaigning. His Clarke Griffin shirt matches Bellamy’s, albeit a little baggier on him. But he’s got the spirit, sprinting around the halls thrusting posters into their unsuspecting classmates hands.

Bellamy watches as Jasper prances about, a stack of posters with Clarke’s face on them in hand. He’s got a knack for it, Bellamy’s got to admit. While Bellamy catches people’s attention with his looks and charm, Jasper’s just outright lively. He steals people’s attention with his boisterous voice and outlandish gestures. Most of the time, he creeps up on people who don’t even notice he’s around.

Usually, Jasper can’t even tell who it is that he’s handing out posters to. Like when he thrusts a poster advertising Clarke Griffin for Homecoming Queen to Octavia Blake. The shriek that emits from her mouth vibrates Bellamy’s – as well as the rest of the student body’s – eardrums. He winces, as his sister stares at him with daggers in her eyes.

Octavia crumples up on the poster in her hand, storming up to Bellamy, fuming. “What the hell is this?”

Bellamy stares at her blankly. “A poster.” 

Jasper comes up to Bellamy’s side, a sheepish expression written over his face. “Sorry, Octavia. I figured Clarke could use the boost.”

“I can see that,” Octavia hisses. She glances over their attire. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Bellamy. Do you hate me? Is that it?”

“You make it so easy to,” Bellamy huffs.

Before Octavia can feign offense, Bellamy’s peripheral catches Clarke striding through the hallway. She’s oblivious at first, merely whisking through the halls with her head held high. She must be used to the whispers that litter the halls when she walks by, because she doesn’t even glance at her surroundings as she powers through.

Bellamy claps his hand over Jasper’s shoulder. “Handle my sister for a second, will you?” He doesn’t wait for a reply, not that he thinks Jasper will complain – Octavia sure would, though. Bellamy leaps over to Clarke, a bright, smug smile on his face and poster in his hand.

Clarke staggers back when Bellamy lurches himself in front of her. She stares up at him, bewildered expression soon morphing into irritation realizing that it’s him. He only continues to smirk, holding out a poster to her.

“Vote Clarke Griffin for Homecoming Queen,” Bellamy announces.

Eyebrows furrowing, Clarke hesitantly takes the poster from him. She stares down at it, her confusion only growing. She looks back up, taking in his t-shirt with her face plastered across it. Glancing at his shirt, then at the poster and back to Bellamy in one rapid motion brings a smile to Bellamy’s face. Clarke’s not even confused at this point, just trying to figure out if any of this is real or a simulation.

“This – This isn’t going to do anything,” Clarke stammers, shoving the poster back at him. Her hardened stature returns. “You’re sending the school mixed signals. You’re giving _me_ mixed signals.”

“Okay, then let me be clear,” Bellamy shrugs. He leans in closer, that mischievous smirk dancing across his lips. “You’re going to win Homecoming Queen, because I say so.”

“Oh, is that how it’s going to be?”

“Yeah, I have some sway around here.”

Bellamy’s amusement fails to impress Clarke. He didn’t think it would. All he needs her to see is that he’s trying, that he finally has her best interests at heart. That his heart lies with hers, beyond anything or anyone else. This gesture may be minimal in the grand scheme of things, but it’s a start. He begins with Homecoming, and will continue to sort out ways to win her back with the rest of their time together.

Clarke doesn’t say anything, pursing her lips shut. She glances back down at the poster, her stare glued to its contents. It’s a picture he stole from her social media, one where she looks like an actual princess from the previous year’s Homecoming. He got Jasper to photoshop a crown on her head and plaster on the words _Vote Clarke Griffin for Homecoming Queen_ , and they were set.

She bites down on her bottom lip, as if deciding if this is an acceptable apology for the time being. Bellamy knows it’ll take a lot more than this, but he’s hoping he can at least get through a conversation with her now without her spitting venom. Her gaze flickers up his.

“I’m going to do whatever it takes to make this up to you,” Bellamy vows. “I’ll start with Homecoming, and if that’s not enough, I’ll do more.”

Clarke’s quiet for a moment. She mulls over this, sighing deeply. Shoving the poster into his chest, she takes a step backward. “I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you for what you did.”

“Let me try,” Bellamy pleads. “Let me try and earn your forgiveness. Let me show you how much I love you.”

That statement seems to spark something in Clarke that Bellamy can’t quite distinguish. She tenses, as if she doesn’t believe him, as if he’s saying something so absurd that it couldn’t possibly be true. She takes a steady breath, trying to regain the composure Bellamy’s stolen from her more than once at this point.

“More is an understatement,” Clarke deadpans. “Making this up to me, fuck, I don’t even know where you’d begin. Or if it’ll work.”

The smirk returns to Bellamy’s face. He’ll take that as a win. “Don’t worry, princess. I’m just getting started.”

* * *

Bellamy wears his Clarke Griffin shirt during their presentation. Snickers litter the classroom, even a watchful eye from Mr. Pike, but Bellamy does it to see the corners of Clarke’s mouth tip upwards into a small smile.

Their presentation goes smoothly – more so, actually. Bellamy and Clarke prove themselves to be quite the team, especially having only rehearsed once. They bounce off of one another, in a natural way that Bellamy’s missed all too much the past couple of days. She beams when they finish, proud of their work and igniting a fire in Bellamy’s chest at the same time.

He leans in to whisper in her ear, “Good job, princess.”

She doesn’t say anything, staring straight at the rest of their classmates, but he doesn’t miss the way she shivers. Bellamy smirks to himself, straightening his posture and staring forward at the rest of the class.

“Great job, you two,” Mr. Pike acknowledges with a nod. He turns his attention to the class from his desk. “Do we have any questions for Bellamy and Clarke?”

One student raises his hand, and doesn’t wait to be called on. “Yeah. Bellamy, did you end up getting Clarke’s ass in bed?”

There’s a round of snickers and laughter echoing around the classroom that follow. The student looks quite proud of himself, too, like his joke was just so original and so funny. Bellamy looks to Clarke instantly, chest clenching at the way her cheeks radiate red, her head ducking down to cover her embarrassment. His face twists into a scowl, before looking back to their obnoxious round of classmates.

Mr. Pike says something. He must, because he’s their teacher, but Bellamy doesn’t hear it. Everyone’s voices sound like murmurs in his ears, air filling his eardrums, probably from the fumes of his anger. He storms right up to that classmates desk and slams his hands down on the wood. The student jumps, staring up at Bellamy with a confused expression. Seems like he genuinely thought he was funny.

“What did you say?” Bellamy sneers.

“Bellamy,” Clarke calls out to him. “Don’t–”

“I asked if you hit that,” the student says, all too confidentially.

Bellamy remembers his fist colliding with the guy’s face, more than once, Clarke screaming his name and a group of students and Mr. Pike pulling him back, before being shuffled down to the principal’s office.

* * *

Bellamy’s suspended from all Homecoming activities – game and everything.

He feels numb, Bellamy’s whole future disappearing before his eyes. No more scouts seeing him play, no scholarship allowing him to attend college. He wouldn’t go, there’s no way he’d use up his family’s money for himself when it could go towards Octavia. His football career is over, any potential career he dreamed of having is over. It’s just done.

He should have taken Coach Kane’s advice. Been on his best behavior, just until Homecoming. The rest would have been smooth sailing. But Bellamy can’t fathom people speaking that way about Clarke, especially not when he’s the one that caused it. He, at least, owes her that. And in all honestly, he would do it again, just to shut that guy up and prove to Clarke that he’s on her side.

Octavia meets him at the principal’s office, intent on evoking her wrath on administration. She’s too late, although she probably wouldn’t have much sway either way. Bellamy lets her drown out about suing, barely registering what she’s saying as they walk down the hall. He’s just going through the motions at this point. Octavia can talk all she wants, everything is destroyed anyways.

Bellamy only regains some sort of feeling when he spots Clarke waiting for him by the doors. His heart finds it’s beat again, nerves tickling his skin, a small smile brought to his face. She waited for him, probably out of guilt, but she’s here nonetheless. He moves to walk towards her, but Octavia’s already beat him to it.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Octavia scowls, stomping up to Clarke. “You got him suspended, just cause he’s not into you?”

“Octavia,” Bellamy hisses.

“No, this is just her revenge,” Octavia snarls. She gets an inch away from Clarke’s face. “You just couldn’t let it go, could you?”

“You didn’t,” Clarke snaps, matching Octavia’s intensity. “You couldn’t get over the fact that Atom didn’t want to be with you, you had to make everyone around you miserable.”

“Atom and I would still be together if it wasn’t for you. Bellamy would have never looked at you if it wasn’t for _me_.”

“Octavia,” Bellamy bellows, inserting himself between the two. “This isn’t Clarke’s fault. This is on me.”

“What do you mean?” Clarke asks, confused. “What did the principal say?”

Octavia draws back, allowing Bellamy to take reign of this one. She crosses her arms over her chest, daring Bellamy to tell Clarke just how bad his punishment is. He debates not telling her, but his lies have done enough damage to the two of them. Bellamy inhales deeply, exhaling slow.

“I got suspended from Homecoming activities,” Bellamy explains, trying to sound nonchalant.

Clarke’s eyes widen. “What? Including the game?”

Bellamy nods, “Including the game.”

“And it’s all because you had to play the damsel in distress,” Octavia sneers.

Bellamy turns to his sister, eyes narrowed warningly. He fishes his hand into his pocket, pulling out his keys and handing them to her. “Octavia, enough. Go wait in the car.”

“What else could you possibly have to say to her? She’s done nothing but try and ruin our lives since–”

“Go wait in the car, Octavia. Now.”

Octavia screws her lips shut, although it’s evident that’s against her judgement. She glances at Clarke, glaring harshly before she yanks the keys out of Bellamy’s hand. They rattle in her grip as she marches out of Arkadia High, leaving Bellamy and Clarke in the emptiness of the hallway.

“Oh, God, Bellamy,” Clarke says. She peers up at him, those doe-eyes back in full effect. “I know how much that scholarship meant to you.”

He forces a smile. “It’s alright. At least I went down fighting for a worthy cause.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but Clarke finds it anything but funny. Her shoulders slump, and she looks at Bellamy like a puppy that’s just been kicked over. Bellamy feels worse seeing her like this than he does about being suspended. He doesn’t need to keep pushing these feelings onto her; guilt about his suspension, heartbreak from his lies. It’s not fair to her.

“Clarke, I’m going to be okay.” Bellamy tells her. “My grades could still get me a great scholarship.”

“You shouldn’t have touched him,” Clarke blurts out. “You should have just let him talk.”

Bellamy’s eyes narrow. “I didn’t like how he was talking about you.”

“People have said worse and reacted with less.”

“Well, those people aren’t me. And they don’t love you like I do.”

“You’ve got to stop saying that,” Clarke sighs heavily, rubbing her temples in exasperation. “That you love me, that you’re going to prove your love to me.”

Bellamy tries to dissect her, the mask of the façade she puts on, on full display before him. He steps forward, and Clarke instantly ducks her head to avoid his gaze. He dares to bring his hands to her forearms, slightly caressing the softness of her skin. Clarke sighs deeply, but still can’t bring herself to look at him.

“I know you don’t believe me,” Bellamy says slowly. “But Clarke Griffin, I love you.”

He makes a move to step towards her, but she holds out her arms to stop him. Bellamy halts, and Clarke drops her hands, staring at him with the shake of her head. He still, swallowing down a lump in his throat. Maybe his emotions got the best of him, but maybe this time it was for a good cause. And he would do it again, if anyone ever dared to make any sort of comment about Clarke around him.

Clarke doesn’t seem to see it that way, though. He can’t blame her, not after everything he’s done to her. But even if she doesn’t believe him, he’ll make sure he spends every moment he can showing her that he’s true. That for once, he’s doing this of his own accord, not because he has to because he wants to. Because he wants her, because he loves her.

“What are you going to do, Bellamy?” Clarke sighs, pity in her eyes.

Bellamy hates feeling sorry for himself. He doesn’t deserve to have people pity him, not for the choices and mistakes that he’s made all on his own. Clarke looking at him like that spurs something else inside of him, though. Reminds him of everything she told him he could be, that’s now gone in the blink of an eye. He just started believing this was something he could achieve, and now there’s no future in the making for him.

He offers her a small smile. “I’ll make it work. I have my good looks.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, staring at him in disbelief. “Bellamy, I’m serious.”

“I am, too. I’ll make it work.”

“I’m so sorry, Bellamy.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows furrow together, peering down at Clarke and the wretched expression across her face. A slight smirk tips onto his lips. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

Clarke’s features harden. Her eyes glance over him, as if she’s deciding what approach to take. Bellamy just watches, honestly just taking what he can get from her at this point. “We’ll never be what we were, Bellamy. But I can’t just stop caring about you overnight.”

“Who said you needed to?” Bellamy inquires, surging forward. Clarke lets him this time, even allows him to tuck his hand under her cheek. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He thinks, for a moment, that she’ll let them have this. The two of them, almost in their own world, wrapped up in one another. So many times when they were together, it felt like they were the only two beings that existed on the planet. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the feeling, of being his own person beside someone who only wanted what was best for him. It was a feeling almost too surreal to think back on now.

“You know what, maybe that’s just the problem,” Clarke takes his hand that’s on her cheek, and brings it down. “You don’t think about what you do before you do it.”

“I didn’t. Not with the whole Octavia thing, and not with this,” Bellamy confesses. “But I’m going to do better. I want to do better.”

“For who? For your sister? For me?”

“Why can’t I be better for both of you?”

“Why can’t you just be better for you?” Clarke demands, dropping his hand. She takes a step back, shaking her head. “You said you wanted to stop living your life for your sister. Stop living it for me. Be a better person for you, Bellamy.”

She lets the words hang in the air for a moment, seeping into Bellamy’s skin and sinking into his bones. Clarke gives him one final look, a plea, and Bellamy understands. He can stop living for his sister only to go to bat for Clarke. While he loves them both, probably more than he’ll ever care for himself, it’s obstructing his life and demolishing any sense of character he may have had for himself.

* * *

Staring up at the ceiling, Bellamy throws his football up in the air, catching it with ease as he lays back on his bed. Friday night, with nothing to do but throw around a ball, while everyone is busy preparing for the Homecoming game. The dance is tonight, too, not that he’s going to that either. He’s alone, in his bed, the house empty and the world at a standstill for Bellamy Blake. This may just be how things are supposed to be.

He’s spent majority of his life catering his world to Octavia. Now, when he finally is free from her clutches, he loses Clarke. It’s nobody’s fault but his own, Bellamy realizes, but in a desperate attempt to get her back, he throws away everything to defend her. When Clarke was much more capable of handling it herself, nor did she ask for his help. Now, Octavia and Clarke are leading their own lives, as they should, while his shrieks to an indefinite halt.

Bellamy’s fucked up a lot in his life. Agreeing to do majority of the shit Octavia asked of him isn’t even the start of it. Becoming a replacement parent for their mother was the beginning. He doesn’t know exactly when and where it concludes, but he hopes it’s here. He wants to be able to adore the people in his life, to the point where he can still enjoy his. The thing is, he just doesn’t think he has anyone left to do that.

A loud crash from downstairs disrupts him from his thoughts. Bellamy jolts up from his bed, football in hand. Octavia’s at the game, and his mother is definitely not home – she never is. The sound of footsteps pounding against the staircase follow, and without much quick thinking, Bellamy winds back his hand with the football wrapped in his grip, a suitable defense from an intruder in his opinion.

Octavia bursts through the door, Clarke trailing behind her. His sister yelps, “Bellamy, what the fuck? Put the ball down.”

Seeing Octavia and Clarke stand in his doorway is jarring enough, but seeing them not at each other’s throats is a once in a lifetime opportunity. They’re both in their cheerleading uniforms, hair tucked into tight ponytails, ready for their half-time performance. Or, they would be, if they weren’t standing in Bellamy’s bedroom right now.

Bellamy tosses the football to the edge of his bed. “What are you guys doing here? The game just started.”

“I talked to that guy you punched out,” Clarke pipes up. Octavia nudges her, and Clarke rolls her eyes in response. “Okay, I threatened him.”

He stands from the bed. “You threatened him? Clarke, you could–”

“And I talked to Coach Kane,” Octavia interjects. “He and the principal agreed to let you back on the team if the student said it was okay.”

“I made sure he said it was okay.” Clarke gloats.

“Principal dropped the suspension,” Octavia beams.

Bellamy glances between his sister and Clarke, two people who just the other day were going at it in the halls. He almost completely misses what they were saying, how they teamed up to make sure he could play. The fact that he’s able to still have a chance at the scholarship is great, but nearly on the backburner of Bellamy’s mind, because Octavia and Clarke working together is a miracle, or maybe the work of a higher power.

“You two did this together?” Bellamy raises his eyebrows, an amused smirk on his face.

“I figured I owed you one,” Octavia shrugs. She flips her hair over her shoulder to glare at Clarke. “But this is where the pleasantries end, Griffin. When that crown is placed on my head tonight, I’ll still hate you as I always have.”

Clarke scrunches up her face in a sickly sweet stare. “Right back at you.”

Octavia snaps her head back towards Bellamy. “Get your ass downstairs in five. We’ll make it right before half-time starts.”

His sister brushes past Clarke, in true Octavia Blake fashion, before whisking down the staircase and leaving the two of them alone in Bellamy’s room. Bellamy knows he’s supposed to be getting ready, especially since he’s just been given a second chance by the school, but he can’t help but stare at Clarke a little longer, with a fond, little smile.

“I know this wasn’t Octavia’s idea,” Bellamy blurts out.

Clarke purses her lips together tightly to refrain from smiling. It doesn’t work. “I didn’t think she’d agree to help out. She almost didn’t. I had to point out all the shit you’ve done for her. Including that whole plan.”

Bellamy winces. The plan is a painful reminder to the both of them. Clarke awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other, glancing around his room to avoid eye contact. There’s so much he’s said to her, none of which will ever make up for everything he did. Yet, she still went out on a limb to help him, to make sure that he played today so that he could impress the scouts. He doesn’t even know where to start.

“I know this probably doesn’t mean much to you,” Bellamy starts. “Everything between us, it may have started as a lie. But everything I’ve ever said to you about how I felt, that was real. Every single thing.”

“I meant everything I said, too.” Clarke admits with a small smile. She inhales, exhaling shakily. “But – I don’t know. I did this for you because I love you, Bellamy–”

“I love you, too.”

“And somehow you’ve managed to permanently change my opinion of you, even after all this shit you’ve done. You keep surprising me.” Clarke tilts her head to the side. “But I don’t know where we go from here. And I don’t think we should figure it out.”

Bellamy feels like he’s heart is being shattered all over again, for the millionth time. They’ve been done for a couple days now, but this is the first time that it felt final to him. When she says those words, severing the cord between the two of them, it feels like a conclusion. An ending to something that was always so inevitable in Bellamy’s mind. But there’s no explosion, no eruption, just the end. And that hurts a lot more.

He just stares at her, for what feels like an eternity. Clarke fixates on him, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. He can feel his own eyes burning, but he blinks them away, not wanting anything to obstruct his vision of Clarke.

“Remember when I said I don’t beg for anyone?” Bellamy tries, keeping a light, teasing tone to his voice. He takes a tentative step forward. “Well, I’m begging now, Clarke. I’m going to be a better person for me, but I’m also going to be the man you deserve.”

Clarke closes her eyes, attempting to not let her tears slide past her eyelids. “Bellamy, please–”

“Hey, I’m supposed to be doing the begging here, right?” Bellamy teases, cupping his hand around her cheek. Clarke’s eyes flutter open, a pout forming on her lips. He rests his forehead against hers. “Please, baby. I love you and I want to be with you. More than anything.”

“How do I know this is real? That you’re not just going to abandon me at the drop of hat?”

“I couldn’t do it before. I wouldn’t dream of doing it now.”

Clarke tilts her head upwards, eyes locking with his. Bellamy stares down at her, his breath heavy and every part of him inclined to touch her. Clarke brings her hand up to squeeze at his hip, telling him she’s here. Bellamy leans in, unable to contain himself any longer, brushing his lips against hers –

“Bellamy!” Octavia’s screech jerks them apart, echoing from downstairs and rattling the walls of his bedroom. “We don’t have all day! Let’s go!”

Bellamy stares at Clarke, unmoving. With their distance apart, just a couple of feet, he aches to surge forward and embrace her again. Clarke swallows thickly, staring back at him with the same intensity, but only for a moment. And then she’s turning around and scurrying down the staircase without another word.

* * *

Arkadia High is down 2-4 by the time Bellamy gets there. Everyone welcomes with absurd amounts of relief, all pestering him with plays and strategies as to how to get their points up. Bellamy hunches over as they all huddle, staring out into the crowd for a moment. He locks eyes with the line of scouts, all perched in top row, staring directly at him. Gulping down his nerves, Bellamy turns back to the rest of the team and tells them what they’re going to do.

By the last quarter of the game, Arkadia and Azgeda High are tied. A tie that Bellamy intends to break.

Azgeda High’s quarterback is ferocious, glaring at Bellamy with a growl. Bellamy smirks back, his eyes narrowed menacingly. Out of all the shits that happened to him, this is the last thing that would ever get on his nerves. Football he knows how to handle, how to navigate and especially how to win. This captain doesn’t nerve him, not at all.

The whistle blows, and the ball ends up in Finn’s hands. This time, Bellamy’s planned it that way. He charges after Finn, knowing that Azgeda’s team is a lot rougher than Polis is. Whoever has the ball, that’s who they’re going to go for. Bellamy shoves the opposing team members out of the way, clearing a path for Finn to the touchdown line.

Finn’s legs move like Bellamy’s never seen them before. He’s rapid, but evidently nervous, constantly scanning for Bellamy. For once, Bellamy is keen on having his back. This is the game that he has to show everything, not just his skillset; leadership, collaboration, all of that stuff Bellamy wouldn’t care less about if it was a normal day. But this is his second chance. He’s got to do it right.

Bellamy lingers by the opposing line, having successfully dismantled Azgeda High’s team. He doesn’t even have to prompt Finn this time, the football soaring over into Bellamy’s grasp with ease. The crowd erupts into shouts and screams, and the Azgeda High captain begins charging over to Bellamy.

For one split second, Bellamy looks out onto the crowd. He catches Clarke’s eye, so eerily similar to how he did a couple of days before. She locks eyes with him, her worries seeping into his chest and igniting a beat to his heart. Just like he did on Monday, he puckers his lips, blowing her a kiss and silently tells her that he’s hers. Clarke’s a little stunned this time, staring back at him almost frozen, but he soaks in the blush that creeps onto her cheeks.

“Bellamy!” Coach Kane’s shout erupts. “Run!”

Bellamy zones back into the game, just as the Azgeda captain surges towards him. He bypasses his tackle, sprinting to the end line. He’s on his ass, just at his heels, and Bellamy runs like his life depends on it. Which, in this very moment, it does.

He crosses over the line, just as the final whistle rings through the air.

The chorus of chants that follow are unearthly, Bellamy’s teammates surrounding him and hoisting him up in the air. They just fucking won the season, and it’s all because of Bellamy. One thing that Bellamy has done, for Bellamy, and it ends up paying off. He can barely focus on anything around him, his senses overloaded with the joyous shouts from his teammates, chants from the bleachers, and even Kane talking in praises as Bellamy is pranced around in the air.

Someone hands him a trophy, and he shouts a hoorah as he thrusts it into the air. The bleachers go crazy, and Bellamy’s never felt more lively in this moment. Then he looks at Clarke. He finds her in the middle of the two bleachers, edging towards the gate, but lingering gaze on him. She’s clapping along, a small smile on her face.

“Wait,” Clarke can’t hear him, but he must be saying it to someone. Bellamy tries to climb down from his teammates hoisting him up. “Wait, Clarke!”

Bellamy thrusts the trophy into Finn’s chest, sprinting off the field to Clarke. Her blonde hair whisks pasts her as she strides out of the gate, either ignoring or unable to hear Bellamy’s shouts. He’s almost to her, just about to cross of the field, when someone inserts themselves in front of him.

“Bellamy Blake,” the woman glances at him up and down. “Impressive job out there.”

He tries to glance past her, but Clarke’s already gone. Sighing in defeat, Bellamy turns his attention to the woman he doesn’t recognize. “Oh, yeah, thanks.”

“My name’s Charmaine Diyoza. I’m a recruiter for Eligius University’s football team.” She outstretches her hand to him. “I’d love to discuss your plans for next fall.”

His mind is consumed with Clarke. Where she could be, where she could have gone, if this game was her final goodbye to him, if he fucked it all up for good. He wonders if she’ll be at Homecoming, if after this weekend she’ll act like he never existed. If everything he ever had with her is gone, and to never be repaired.

But here is a scout, standing before him, and as Clarke plagues his mind, he tries to think how she would. Not what she would want for him, but what he yearns to achieve himself. Eligius University registers in his mind, a school with one of the best football teams, three hours away, with fantastic academic programs. Bellamy hadn’t looked too much into it because of how far away it was, but hearing that Eligius University is interested in him – it’s a new dream, one that Bellamy’s inclined to explore.

Bellamy flashes a smile at Charmaine Diyoza, and accepts her hand.

* * *

Bellamy runs his hand through his hair, sighing in exasperation. He wedges his phone in between his shoulder and ear, turning to face the mirror. He’s showered, hair in their natural mess of curls, slack pants and button up on, tie undone. There’s no part of him that wants to attend Homecoming tonight. He kind of wishes he was still suspended.

“You’re sure Clarke’s not coming?” Bellamy tries. “She said she’d go, just a couple days ago–”

“She just told me tonight she didn’t think it was a good idea,” Jasper sighs on the other line. “Octavia’s still way ahead in the polls.”

“It’s not just about Homecoming Queen.”

“No. No, it’s not.”

Bellamy closes his eyes, breathing in and out slowly. He should have known she’d opt out. Even after his attempt to help her pull through in the polls, and his stunt the other day, people were still on Octavia’s side. Octavia was surely milking all the attention she was getting, and no temporary truce with Clarke would disrupt her pursuit to the crown.

Not to mention, Homecoming is now a point of contempt for Clarke. He made it that way, after all. If Bellamy could take it all back, make it real from the start, he would do just that. But it’s clear that Clarke doesn’t see it as something he could erase.

“Well, thanks for letting me know, Jasper,” Bellamy deadpans. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Bellamy tosses his phone on the dresser, not knowing whether or not he just lied to Jasper on the phone. No part of him wants to attend Homecoming, especially if Clarke’s not coming. He struggles with his tie, unable to loop it around properly, as he stares at his reflection in frustration.

“Let me help,” Octavia offers.

He doesn’t acknowledge her as she steps into his room. Bellamy makes a last effort to correct his tie, to no use. He groans, giving in and turning to his sister for assistance. Octavia stands before him in a lacey green gown, one that flows to the floor and compliments the spark in her eyes. She glances up at her big brother, and wraps her fingers around his tie.

“I heard Clarke’s not coming,” Octavia mutters.

“Did you?” Bellamy mumbles.

“I’m sorry that you’re disappointed.”

“I don’t need to hear this right now, Octavia.”

Octavia sighs, tightening his tie around his neck. She stands back, crossing her arms over her chest and peering up at him. “I get that I messed up, Bellamy. You’ve barely spoken to me all week. I thought getting you out of your suspension–”

“That was Clarke’s idea,” Bellamy snaps. “Not yours.”

His sister ignores this. She purses her lips tightly, shifting from one foot the other. Bellamy glares at her, knowing she’s about to pull a pity speech. For once, Octavia seems to take the hint, straightening her posture and adjusting her approach.

“The jumbotron was low of me,” Octavia confesses. “And I know it’s not fair to say I did it to hurt Clarke and not you. Because I meant to do both.”

“I’m your brother, Octavia. And you always fucking treat me like I’m an afterthought to you,” Bellamy scowls. “I’ve put you first for years. You couldn’t let me be happy for five minutes.”

“If it wasn’t with Clarke–”

“I’m sick of you using Clarke as an excuse for your shitty behavior, Octavia. The mistakes you’ve made lead you here. It’s time you take some responsibility.”

Octavia stares at him, bewildered and hurt. But for once, she doesn’t look like she’s gearing up for a rebuttal. His words soak into her, and touch something Bellamy’s never been able to reach before. He stares down at his sister, all decked out in her outfit for Homecoming, tears brimming to her eyes. Bellamy’s not sure what it’ll take for his sister to change her behavior. Sometimes, he thinks she never will.

Bellamy grabs his blazer from the closet, and throws it over his shoulders. He turns back to his sister, who watches him expectantly. It reminds him of when they were younger, Octavia always looking up to him to see what to do next. That has long changed, but in this very moment, Octavia still reminds him of the sister he loves dearly.

Bellamy sighs deeply. “You look beautiful, O.” He gives her a small smile, before whisking past her. “You and Finn take the limo without me. I’ll meet you there.”

* * *

Bellamy didn’t exactly plan to die on the day of Homecoming, but he really should have made funeral arrangements if he was going to climb this gate. He rang the bell multiple times, even called her phone, but to no answer. Which left him with no other choice than to start climbing her gate, in his suit, in the dead of night.

He hikes one leg over the gate, glancing out at the plain of grass on her lawn. Her house is nicely lit this evening, with porch lights and lawn ornaments illuminating the front yard. Bellamy prays this isn’t the one night that her mother is home, or that her neighbors aren’t nosy, because in this lighting, he definitely looks like he’s about to rob the place. In a suit, no less.

Bellamy loses his balance as he swings his other leg over the gate. He stumbles, tumbling down from the gate and landing into the grass nearly face first. Rolling onto the lawn to escape from any serious injury, Bellamy ducks his head into his chest to avoid the inevitable embarrassment that plagues his chest.

“Fuck,” Bellamy groans.

“What the–” Bellamy lifts his head to see Clarke, dressed in pajamas, creeping out to him. She halts when she sees him. “Are you insane, Bellamy?”

Clarke races over to him, leaning down to help him up. He grips onto her hand as she hoists him up. Bellamy glances down at his suit, wrinkled but with minimal grass stains. He dusts himself off, ignoring the bewildered stares from Clarke. Reaching into his back pocket, he retrieves the corsage he bought for her a couple days before, long before the madness of the jumbotron.

“Clarke Griffin,” it wouldn’t be a signature Bellamy Blake proposal without his smirk. He holds out the corsage to her. “Will you be my date to Homecoming?”

She stares at him like he’s grown a second head. “Bellamy. I’m not going–”

“This is _your_ Homecoming, just as much as it’s anyone else’s.” Bellamy argues, drawing forward. Clarke crosses her arms over her chest, biting down on her lower lip. “I may never able to make up for what I’ve done. But I can make sure you have a damn good Homecoming.”

Clarke looks down at the corsage in his hand. She takes it from him, inspecting it between her fingers. Bellamy watches as she becomes mesmerized by the softness of the petals, the richness of the color he ensured matched her dress. A small, fond smile tips onto his lips, especially when her eyes light up. The beam that is Clarke Griffin will never fail to restart the thumping of his heart.

“Fine,” Clarke sighs, slipping the corsage onto her wrist. “I’m giving you this one night.”

Bellamy smirks. This one night is all he needs.

Clarke heads back into her house and returns less than an hour later. He waits for her in the foyer, immersing himself with mental notes for the night, that he doesn’t even notice Clarke descending the staircase. When he does, his breath is caught in his throat and his palms grow sweaty, and he swears he’s never seen a more beautiful woman in his lifetime.

Her red dress is tight fitting, accentuating her chest and mid-section, but stems to an elegant flow with a train at the end. Her hair falls down her back in loose waves cascading gracefully. Clarke is glowing, and while she always is in Bellamy’s eyes, it radiates off of her and bounces off the walls of her home, absorbing into his chest and causing a glow of his own. The corsage he got her is on her wrist, and when she finally reaches the bottom step, she stretches that hand out to him.

“One night, Bellamy,” Clarke reiterates. “This is it.”

“I have a track record with changing your opinion,” Bellamy smirks, taking her hand. His eyes flick up to meet hers as he bends down, pressing his lips against her knuckles. “And I intend to keep that streak up, princess.”

* * *

Bellamy and Clarke walk into the gymnasium hosting their Homecoming, and all eyes are on them immediately. Clarke squeezes his hand, and he makes sure to hold onto her tighter. He’s got her, and this time, he isn’t planning to let her go so easily. Bellamy presses a kiss to her temple, enjoying how Clarke’s cheeks flush at the touch.

They’re late, but fashionably so, so Bellamy leads her directly to the dancefloor. The crowd practically paths a way for them, and Bellamy centers the two of them in the middle of the floor, not because he needs all eyes on them, but because everyone should witness firsthand how beautiful the woman he loves looks. Clarke allows him to snake his hands around her waist, bringing her arms up around his neck, gazing at him like maybe, just maybe he could have a shot.

It’s silence for a while, the slow song coursing through their bodies as they sway in tune with one another. Bellamy fixates on Clarke, everything from her touch to the way her eyes meet his. He wonders if she can feel the rapid beat of his heart, or the unevenness of his breath.

“Do you remember when I asked why you liked me?” Clarke breaks the silence. Bellamy nods. “What changed for you? When did this become real?”

Bellamy has to think about that. He can’t pinpoint an exact moment when he realized that his feelings for Clarke weren’t just a façade, that his heart only started to beat again for her. There was no one thing she did, no one word or action, just a culmination of everything that made Clarke her. Looking back, it was almost inevitable that he would fall in love with her.

“I always thought of us as this explosion,” Bellamy says. “Even before this whole thing. I thought if we were ever to get together, it would be some sort of catastrophe.”

Clarke rolls her eyes playfully. “You’re such a romantic.”

Bellamy chuckles lowly, resting his forehead against hers. “Then, I got the chance to be with you. And I found a peace I hadn’t ever felt before. You were the one person that grounded me, that made me feel like me.” He brushes his nose against hers. “There was no moment. There was just you.”

Clarke holds onto him tighter, eyes glazing over. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. He aches to kiss her, for his actions to match the words that he’s saying. Bellamy leans in, but of course, should know better, as Jasper’s voice erupts over the speaker.

“Alright, Arkadia High!” Jasper shouts. A chorus of chants echo through the gymnasium. “It’s what you’ve all been waiting for. Homecoming King and Queen.”

Everyone crowds to the front of the stage, shuffling Bellamy and Clarke to the back. He doesn’t mind, keeping one arm around Clarke’s waist to keep her near him. She leans into his side, placing her hand on his chest. Bellamy brings his free hand up to hers on his chest, wrapping his fingers around her. He squeezes her hand, tells her silently that they’re going to be okay. For once, he believes it.

Bellamy scans the crowd for his sister. He finds her lacey green dress near the front, eagerly awaiting the results. Finn is at her side, although evidently not that interested. She looks back at the crowd, seeming to have the same thought process as her brother. They lock eyes, and he gives her a small smile. Octavia returns the gesture, nodding her head to him in acknowledgement, before looking back to the stage.

“Your Homecoming King is,” Jasper rips open the envelope in a true-to-himself fashion. He beams, leaning into the microphone, “For the fourth year in a row, Bellamy Blake!”

The gymnasium erupts into a round of applause, as dread fills Bellamy’s chest. Usually, when he wins these things, it’s with Roma, who’s pushing him on stage. It’s never an accomplishment to him. But now, he stands here with Clarke, and all he wants to do is stay with her.

“Go,” Clarke urges him with a smile. She nudges his side. “Come on, Superstar. Claim your crown.”

Bellamy smiles at her, and all the wonder that she is. He gives her nose a quick kiss, her hand a quick squeeze, before pushing through the crowd. The student body continues their applause and shouts, all just so damn happy that Bellamy’s claiming the crown. None of them are surprised, not even Bellamy, but their chants only increase when Jasper places the crown on his head.

Jasper turns back to the microphone, a big grin on his face. He reveals a second envelope from behind his back. “And you’re Homecoming Queen is…”

Bellamy glances at Octavia. Her hands are clasped together tightly, eyes screwed shut, saying a silent prayer although the two of them are anything but religious. His gaze turns to Clarke, and she’s only looking at him. A small smile on her face, only meant for him. He grins back.

“Octavia Blake!”  
  


His sister’s shriek overpowers the chants of the whole gymnasium. Octavia sprints, in six inch heels, up the stairs and onto the stage, practically ripping the crown from Jasper’s hand. To make it up to him, in her excitement, she presses a long, sloppy kiss to his cheek, all before she turns back to the crowd, places the crown on her head and pretends to regain some sort of composure.

Bellamy locks eyes with Clarke, an apologetic stare on his face. Clarke only returns his gaze with a shrug and sad smile, but she’s still applauding for the two of them, along with the rest of their classmates.

“Wow. Well, Arkadia High, give it up to this year’s Homecoming King and Queen. Please make way for their first dance.” Jasper breathes, still reeling from the kiss Octavia planted on his cheek, stumbles back to the microphone in awe. As the gymnasium erupts into their final round of applause, separating into their designated sides of the gym Jasper glances back at the Blake siblings, both sporting crowns. “Well. This is a little _Game of Thrones_ -y.”

Bellamy scrunches up his nose in disgust, which soon morphs into a glare that’s sent Jasper’s way. He excuses himself from the stage rather quickly to avoid Bellamy’s wrath, staggering down the stairs and joining the crowd. Octavia doesn’t seem to take Jasper’s comment to heart, striding over to Bellamy and linking their arms together before practically ushering him down the stairs.

Clarke is still staring at him, and while she’s sad, she gives him a supportive smile. Bellamy lets Octavia lead him down the steps halfway, before something inside of him snaps. It could be Clarke, or Octavia, or maybe this is just what he innately knows that he needs to do. He jerks his arm out of Octavia’s grip, heading back on stage and ripping the microphone from its stand.

“Uh – hey,” Bellamy greets the crowd, as murmurs litter around in confusion. “I have some stuff I want to say. As your Homecoming King.”

Everyone stares up at him curiously, but Bellamy’s only ever looking at Clarke. She’s also not quite sure what’s going on, her eyebrows furrowed together, but there’s an amused smile on her face nonetheless.

“A couple of days ago, you guys saw me on the jumbotron, saying something I really didn’t mean.” Bellamy exclaims. “Everything I said about Clarke Griffin in that video was entirely false. And I wish I could tell you why I said it, but that’s an entirely different story. The fact is, that it wasn’t true. It’s a poor reflection of how amazing of a person that she is.”

Clarke stares at him, a mixture of adoration and heartache fusing together in what Bellamy hopes can be healing. For the both of them.

“Clarke Griffin is the smartest woman I’ve ever met. And she’ll make sure you know it,” the crowd murmurs with giggles. Bellamy breaks out into a smirk. “She’s probably the most genuine person on this planet, she’s got a heart like no other.” His heart is beating a mile a minute, the rate only increasing the longer Clarke stares at him. “Did you guys know she can paint? Better than Picasso, or Da Vinci, or whatever famous painter you’ve seen. She tops them.”

She’s laughing now, but her eyes are brimming with tears. He hopes they’re the happy kind, because he feels some of his own spark in his eyes. Bellamy forces himself to tear his gaze away from Clarke to address the crowd, just for a moment.

“I fucked up. Bad. Especially with everything I said on that stupid jumbotron,” Bellamy’s gaze lands back on Clarke. “But I hope you can believe me when I say that I am in love with you, Clarke Griffin. More than anything in this world, I love you. That’s the most true thing about me.”

The crowd erupts into another round of applause, but Bellamy’s not really paying attention to any of them. He hangs the microphone back up on the stand, and strides down the steps, bypassing his sister. Waltzing through the crowd, Bellamy makes a beeline for Clarke, and she’s already waiting for him. He halts in front of her, breathing heavily from the adrenaline of the past five minutes, and she stares at him with a smirk of her own.

“What’s your opinion of me now?” Bellamy feigns innocence.

Clarke shakes her head, cupping her hand at the back of his neck and pulling him closer. “Oh, shut up.”

Their lips collide in a passionate mess of one another. Bellamy snakes his hands around her waist, enjoying the feel of her lips smoothening over his. He can’t help but grin into her mouth, an overwhelming sense of peace surging over him. Clarke giggles against his lips, and Bellamy just pulls her closer.

He leads her towards the middle of the dancefloor, no longer designated for a Homecoming King and Queen dance. Other couples crowd around them, swaying to the music, but Bellamy’s only focus is Clarke. So much so, that he doesn’t even notice Octavia creep up behind them.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Octavia coughs. Bellamy pulls away from Clarke, keeping his hands around her waist and a watchful eye on his sister. To both of their surprise, Octavia extends the crown to Clarke. “I think this belongs on your head.”

Clarke peers down at the crown, then back up to Octavia. “Did you coat it in hair removal cream?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Octavia huffs. “Kings should have their Queens, and it shouldn’t their sister.”

Octavia’s eyes drift to Bellamy’s, a small smile on her face. Bellamy returns the smile, tipping his head to his sister in acknowledgement. It may not be revolutionary, but it’s a step in the right direction. And he can commend his sister for that.

“Thank you, Octavia,” Clarke says graciously. “But I think I’m okay.”

She doesn’t even wait for Clarke’s words to register before she’s placing the crown back on her own head. Octavia smiles at the two of them, plastic, but more genuine than anything she’s ever directed to Clarke.

“Well, don’t say I never offered you anything,” Octavia shrugs. She glances at Bellamy, “Congratulations, big brother.”

Bellamy tilts his head at his litter sister with a smile. “Congratulations, O.”

Octavia gives a tight smile to the two of them, before excusing herself, disappearing back into the crowd. Clarke looks to Bellamy, just as surprised as he is. The two burst out into laughter, foreheads bumping against each other. It’s a sweet gesture they can both recognize, but one that’s left them both at a standstill.

“What do you say we go somewhere more quiet?” Clarke suggests. She glances around the poorly decorated gymnasium. “With some better lighting.”

Bellamy doesn’t have to be told twice. He lets Clarke intertwine their fingers, before leading them out of the gymnasium. In total, they spend about fifteen minutes at the Homecoming dance. Not that either of them mind. As long as they’re together, they could be anywhere, without any ounce of an issue.

* * *

They end up on the bleachers of the football field. Bellamy’s rid of his blazer, undone his tie, while Clarke hikes her dress up to her thighs so she can sit properly. Bellamy’s arm is around her as they lean back, staring up at the stadium lights. He tucks his head under her jaw, littering kisses up her neck, relishing in the fact that he has her back.

“Why didn’t you take the crown from Octavia?” Bellamy mumbles against her skin.

Clarke peers at him, tipping his face upwards with her nose. She places a short kiss on his lips. “She clearly needed the crown more than I did. I have everything I need right here.”

Bellamy grins, leaning in for a longer kiss. Clarke’s mouth deepens against his, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks to pull him closer. Gently, he lays her down on the bleacher, towering over her in a hunger just to be with her. Clarke giggles, thankful that her dress is already hiked up to her thigh, so that she can wrap her legs around his torso.

Carefully, hoisting her up, Bellamy tucks them into a secluded corner under the bleachers. Clarke holds him tighter with one arm, while using her free hand to try and unbuckle his pants. Bellamy helps her, easily unbuckling his belt and slicking it through the loops in his slacks. He stares up at her, watching as her tongue runs over her lower lip hungrily.

“Princess, you sure you want this here?” Bellamy grins in amusement. “I can take you back to my place.”

“No, I need you here, I want you now.” Clarke demands, with a softness to her voice. She presses her lips against his, murmuring, “I missed you so much, baby.”

“Fuck, I missed you, too.” Bellamy curses against her lips. He reaches behind her back, unzipping her dress. She wiggles out of it, discarding the garment where his belt is before helping him with his pants. “You need me, baby?”

“I do,” Clarke babbles, yanking down his pants. Bellamy steps out of his slacks, swooping forward to litter kisses across her breasts as he undoes her bra. Clarke moans, holding onto his curls. “Bellamy, please.”

“I’m going to give it to you, baby,” Bellamy promises, murmuring against her flesh. Her bra falls to the ground, as Bellamy sinks his fingers in between her wetness. “Oh, princess. You’re already so wet for me.”

Clarke doubles over, holding onto Bellamy as his fingers thrust in and out of her. She holds onto his shoulders, biting down on his skin to refrain from being loud. Her short, little moans are enough to spur Bellamy on, keeping a steady pace with his two fingers inside her while his thumb circles her clit.

Bellamy can feel her tightening around his fingers, “There you go, baby. Almost there.”

Clarke comes with a muffled moan, crushing her mouth against his shoulder. Bellamy wishes he removed his shirt so he could feel every part of her skin against his, but he relishes in having her come around his fingers, in having her perched on his lap, in having her here with him at all. Being able to touch her is a privilege he thought he’d lost, but she’s here, they’re here, together, and he’s not going to waste any more of it.

Bellamy draws his fingers out of there, Clarke pulling back to rest her forehead against his. He slicks his fingers into his mouth, wiping the taste of her onto his tongue, as Clarke shudders from the sight and the aftermath of her orgasm.

“Bellamy,” Clarke whimpers. She hoist his tie over his head and begins unbuttoning his shirt. Bellamy helps her with the last few buttons. “Please, Bellamy, fuck me.”

He’s already hard, his cock straining against his boxers uncomfortably. Clarke pulls his boxers down greedily, his dick springing free right before her very eyes. She moans, wrapping her hand around the base of him and stroking him up and down slowly. Not that he needs it. But he admires the way her tiny hands wrap around him eagerly.

Bellamy repositions her on his lap, glancing both ways to make sure they’re alone behind the bleachers. Once he’s positive it’s just the two of them, like it’s supposed to be, he snakes one hand around her waist, and places the other on her chin. He tilts her head up to lock eyes with her.

“You okay, baby?” Bellamy asks.

Clarke breaks out into a breathy grin. She nods hurriedly, before adding, “I love you so much.”

Bellamy crashes his lips against her as his heart soars. He murmurs against her lips, “I love you, princess.”

He positions them carefully, allowing Clarke to lean up slightly so that he can align his cock with her entrance. She sinks down onto him slowly, gasping at the stretch of him. Bellamy holds her securely, ensuring that she’s okay. This is only her second time doing this, the first time they’re doing it in this position and he knows she needs some time to get adjusted.

Slowly, Bellamy guides her up and down his cock. Clarke’s a little shaky, not quite sure what to do with her movements. But she finds a rhythm, sliding up and down him with relative ease. Bellamy holds onto her tighter, watching as her gaze falls in between the two of them, almost mesmerized. The sight makes him go crazy.

“Good job, baby,” Bellamy praises. “You’re doing so well.”

“It feels so good,” Clarke cries. “Oh, baby.”

Clarke collapses against his chest, and Bellamy assumes that as his cue to take lead. He doesn’t mind, Clarke’s done such a great job for him. She buries her head in his shoulder, clutching onto his curls for a desperate release. She keeps her pace steady, bouncing up and down him in slight movements, as Bellamy thrusts up into her.

Although at an awkward angle, Bellamy snakes his hand in between them to rub at her clit. She’s already sensitive, but he wants to make sure she feels just as good as he does. The way she clenches around his cock is already sending him over the edge, and seeing as she starts whimpering with his fingers on her clit, he can tell she’s just as close as he is.

“I’m going to come inside you,” Bellamy tells her.

“Please,” Clarke begs. “I want to come with you.”

Bellamy ensures just that. He hurries his pace against her clit, thrusting into her rapidly, their orgasms crashing into them at the same time. Clarke cries out into his shoulder as Bellamy anchors himself inside her. He holds her tighter, if only because he wants to feel their breathing climb down together. Their heart beats erratically, but in sync, and Bellamy finds that more peaceful than anything.

Clarke draws back, cupping his cheeks in her hand to bring him in for one more long kiss. Bellamy smoothens his mouth against hers, relishing in having her here, so close, for he hopes much longer.

“I had to have proven myself by now,” Bellamy taunts.

Clarke laughs heartily, meshing their lips together once more. “Alright, Superstar. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

* * *

A year following Bellamy’s senior year, he finds himself spending Homecoming as a frontrunner at Eligius University. It doesn’t have the same glamor as his quarterback days at Arkadia High, but it still manages to give him the glory he knows he deserves.

The crowd is louder than they were in high school. They don’t chant people’s names, but they cheer for their own team, a magnetic school spirit that’s absorbed into Bellamy’s bloodstream. Eligius University has become his home for the past couple of months, and he loves his team and his History program. The scholarship is also a sweet deal, but Bellamy received that same agreement from pretty much every other school in the district, so he wasn’t really swayed by the money.

Eligius University’s quarterback calls out to Bellamy as he charges through the field with the ball in hand, “Heads up, rookie!”

Bellamy’s not sure he’ll ever get accustom to the nickname, but he supposes that’s his right s a freshman. Granted, it’s not really something for him to complain about right now, seeing as this is one of his first and only chances to have the ball. He lifts his head, just as the football soars in the air and lands in his grasp. The crowd erupts into an eerily familiar roar, as Bellamy charges to the opposing line. He soars through, just as the final whistle sounds.

A voice so familiar sings through the air. “That’s it, Bellamy!”

Bellamy turns his attention to the crowd, much more packed than it ever was in high school. But even now, through the mess of people crowding together, he can spot Clarke just as easily as before. He breaks out into a grin as he locks eyes with her. She’s smiling back with the same intensity, this time sporting his Eligius University varsity jacket, that she stole the first time she visited him on campus.

“That’s my brother!” the familiar shriek echoes through the air. Bellamy winces, his gaze landing on Octavia appears behind Clarke. He’s got to admire her gusto, though.

He jogs off of the field, greeting his sister and girlfriend as the rest of the team dissipates. “I thought you guys had your own Homecoming tonight.”

“Homecoming is so overrated,” Octavia scoffs. “Prom is what Clarke should be worried about.”

Clarke narrows her eyes, “I’m not worried about prom.”

“Well, I said you should be.”

Bellamy sends Octavia a warning glare, but she instantly puts her hands up in mock defense. To her credit, she’s been on her best behavior this past year. Her feud with Clarke has dissipated into a frenemy relationship that he’s not sure either of them understand. But it works, to the best degree that it can.

“Just kidding,” Octavia smirks, although she’s definitely lying. “Congratulations on the touchdown, Bell.” One of his teammates whisks by them, giving Bellamy an acknowledgement pat on the back. Octavia’s gaze follows him. “I’ll be right back.”

Bellamy shakes his head, yet fails to be dumbfounded by his sister’s antics. He laughs, turning his attention back to Clarke. He swoops her into her arms, crashing his lips against hers. She giggles against his lips, hoisting her legs around his torso and wrapping her arms around his neck. She deepens the kiss, both of them blissfully oblivious to the stadium full of people. It’s much more of a crowd than Bellamy’s high school days, but both of them couldn’t care less.

Clarke draws back, resting his forehead against his. “You’re looking good out there.”

“Don’t I always?” Bellamy teases.

Clarke giggles, pecking his lips. “You’re cocky for a freshman.”

“Oh, come on, princess. I know how highly you think of me.”

She doesn’t even try to deny it, but Bellamy doesn’t really give her a chance to. He brings her in for another savory kiss, and in his mind, the crowd fades out of vision. Right here, right now, it’s just him and Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on Twitter! @virgohotspot
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's been reading Sweepstakes! It's been such fun to write, especially in the style of an early 2000's movie. I hope you all enjoyed, and am so grateful for all your comments, kudos, bookmarks and any positive light you've been shedding on this story. It means the absolute world to me, and I hope the conclusion was worth the read. :)

**Author's Note:**

> The explicit rating will be earned in later chapters! And if you want to know about upcoming projects or just want to chat, I'm on Twitter! @virgohotspot
> 
> Thanks for reading!:)


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